➳ genre — broken marriage au, primarily angst, fluff, smut.
➳ word count — 6.6k
➳ synopsis — the canvas of your marriage with your husband, world known artist, minghao is seeming to tear apart. it wasn't always like this and you don't know how long you can hold on when you can't see a future for the two of you.
➳warnings — marriage troubles, cursing, drinking, anxiety, arguments, sickness(fever), medication, misunderstanding, lots of crying, allusions to cheating, pregnancy talk, unprotected sex(don't do this irl), emotional sex.
➳ playlist — i like it when you love me- oh wonder// wish- choi yuree// lie- sasha sloan//say you love me- jessie ware// lie again- seventeen// breaking down- ailee// hai cheng- the8// without you- seventeen.
It's late when your aching feet hit the cold floor of your home.
The wall clock reads 12 am. With a grunt, you head to your bedroom, annoyed at the thought that you didn't have many hours at home before you had to go to work at eight.
The past week has been extremely hectic and being the managing director of a leading private company does not help as more duties keep being handed over to you. But you aren't usually a pushover. You wouldn't have accepted all these works or spent all these stupid extra hours at work had you not been feeling this pain.
This horrible, diabolical pain that has you overworking just to numb it.
Minghao had returned from a five-day trip to Paris this weekend and you were so excited to have him back, eagerly awaiting to spend some quality time with him as he promised before he left.
Except, you got none of that. Minghao returned and then drowned himself in work, saying that he had to finish two pieces within this month for an important client.
Hurt would be an understatement for what his words made you feel. Disappointment, desperation, anger, sorrow and a million other feelings went through you and you wanted to smash things around and tell him to fuck off with his artwork.
Only you didn't. You just nodded and let him go do his work, creating masterpieces. Masterpieces that have now become far more precious than you, even though he once claimed that you were the most precious thing in his life.
That was a long time ago.
In the two years of your marriage, it wasn't always like this. It had started happily, full of love and understanding and all good things until slowly your husband gained popularity and were asked to attend a thousand functions at a thousand different places over the globe and create more and more artworks for important elites.
That was okay. It made you extremely happy that he gained the recognition he deserved. But what was not okay was the distance that started to form between the two of you despite your best efforts. At first, he asked you to come along with him, and see the world and however tempting that offer was, you had your life set here. Your job, your family and friends, the house that you two had just bought. So, you denied his offer and let him go on his way.
But you visited. During the second week of his month-long stay in Rome, you flew over to visit your husband whom you had missed desperately. Though after you arrived, you realized it was a bad idea. Your husband barely had time to eat with the numerous orders for paintings piling up and he spent all day locked up inside a room with only his paints and brushes. If he was happy to see you he didn't get to express it much.
Still, you stayed. You stayed a week and then a couple of more days just because you longed to be close to your husband, breathe the same air as him.
Eventually, you had to return home, to your work. Later, when he came back from Rome, you thought you'd finally have him all to yourself but how wrong you were.
Your husband was exhausted and he slept for a whole day straight. But you couldn't hold that against him. So you cooked for him, cuddled him and took care of all his needs. And then, a day later, everything was back the way it was as he left early in the morning for a meeting with a curator, throwing apologies your way.
It all went downhill from there. He was always with his work, breathing it in and out as it became the sun of his solar system; replacing the sun that was once you. His apologies stopped coming and you stopped expecting them because for one, they didn't change anything and two, they only made you feel guilty. Like you were holding your husband back from his success.
So you let him go. Let your marriage go. You stopped asking when he'd return home and instead said it was all okay and if he needed anything you'd be there.
But on days like today, you regret your decision. On long, exhausting days like today, you don't want to do anything but come home to your husband and let him hold you in the safety of his arms like he once used to.
But your desire stays like that, a desire, far from the reality in which you sit on the cold, empty bed that you share with your husband and weep.
-
You don't know if it's the alarm or the horrible thrumming of your head that wakes you from your slumber. Huffing, you shut down the noise and try to sit up, only to feel like your head might as well come off of your neck.
"Fuck." You hiss, rubbing your temples. You definitely can't go to work today with this headache.
With all your might, you manage to get yourself up and stumble towards the dining room as you desperately try to pour yourself some water.
"_____?" Someone calls your name.
You turn towards the direction of the voice and blink furiously, trying to focus through the numbing ache. "Hao?"
Your husband stands there, dressed for work as he sips a cup of coffee. You definitely didn't expect to see him as he always left for work before you.
"You alright?"
"Y-yeah." You breathe roughly and gulp down the glass of water you managed to pour yourself before you slump down onto the breakfast stool. "You're still here." You murmur, eyes closed as you rub your forehead.
"Yeah. I came home pretty late last night."
Pretty late. That means later than he already does.
"Do you have a fever? Or is it just a headache?" You feel him standing next to you.
"Headache." You murmur.
"Take some medicine then. Should I call Martha?"
Martha is your family doctor and despite her expertise, you can't tolerate her for more than a minute when she starts running her mouth. Which she always does and doesn't get the hint to stop anytime soon. You heavily doubt that's going to be helpful given your current condition.
"No. I'll just... rest." Your words come out slurred. You hear a sigh next to you before your husband puts a hand on your shoulder. "Alright, then. I need to get going. Call Martha if you feel too bad, hmm?"
You only nod and watch with blurry vision as your husband puts on his coat and heads out the door. The silence that follows is eerie. It stretches the gaping hollow inside your heart as you pathetically sit by yourself and let the silence wash over you.
For a little moment, you don't register the pain in your head. No, it is overtaken by the scathingly ache blooming in your heart as you realize your husband just left you by yourself when your head feels like it'll split into two, when you can barely see or walk straight.
You don't know what you had expected. Maybe a hug? A kiss? Words of reassurance? Or a promise of returning home as quickly as possible? Or to pick you up and tuck you in bed? Maybe heat something up for you? Maybe stay with you for a few minutes longer?
Tears burn your eyes as you sit and think about your miserable state. You are angry, frustrated, and in horrible pain but for the first time since this drought started between you and your husband, you feel hopeless.
There is no hope left for you. For this marriage. There cannot be when he saw you in pain and still chose to leave for work. And the hopelessness frightens you more than anything.
Your husband doesn't love you anymore. He doesn't care anymore.
The sound of glass shattering makes you realize you had just thrown it into the floor out of anger. And you can't bring yourself to care. You walk over the little pieces, breaking them further underneath your slippers as you head back into the bedroom and lie down.
Tugging the covers up to your chin, you close your eyes and cry silently, wishing you'd rather never wake up again.
But you do.
It's noon when you open your eyes again and this time it doesn't feel like you've been hit with a crowbar on your head. No, but it feels like you've been sleeping inside an oven, your skin covered in sweat and heat radiating off your face. As you press your palms to your head you realize you have a fever.
Great.
Sighing, you stand up on your wobbly feet and head to the kitchen to get something for your groaning stomach. Ignoring the shattered glass lying on the floor, you heat up the leftover rice and curry you found in your fridge.
Alone and miserable, you finish the food that now has lost its flavourful taste.
Much like your marriage.
Then you grab the medicine box and quickly swallow some pills before you sit on the large couch in your even larger living room.
The afternoon light pours in from the large windows, bathing the room in a beautiful, angelic shade of golden. The sunlight falls on a particular piece of artwork that hangs on the wall of the living room, painted by your dear husband.
The artwork is simple but vibrant, realistic and full of emotions, just like all the works of your husband. It's a painting of two hands, one holding the other, a beautiful ring adorned on the ring finger of the woman's hand. The woman is you and the man is your husband.
He drew this piece after he had proposed to you and then gave it to you as your wedding present. You remember being delighted and shedding a few tears at the marvelous artwork and remember being even more delighted on the day you tied the knot.
You thought you had found your happily ever after. That no matter what, you had your husband and he had you and together you'd get through anything the world threw your way. Only two years later, you now sit alone and feverish, in a large house that contains nothing but you the painful echos of your heart.
The memories once beautiful have now become bitter and before you start shedding more tears, you push yourself up and head towards the bathroom to take a bath. Once done, you retreat into your bed and let the wallowing grief swallow you whole once more.
It's nighttime when you wake up.
9:46 to be exact. Your headache is pretty much gone and the fever has come down a bit but you still feel drowsy and exhausted. You hear the shower running which makes you think you are hearing things.
But no. The wristwatch and wallet sitting on the dresser assure you that you didn't hear wrong and that your husband is home. Which is a record. He's never home this early. Well 9 pm isn't anywhere near early but comparing that to his usual 11 am or even later entrance, this sure is a record.
You sit up as you hear the shower stop. A few minutes later Minghao emerges from the bathroom, wearing a loose pair of pajamas.
"Oh, hey. You're up." He smiles. "How do you feel? Did you take some pills?"
You only nod as you watch his naked upper half. How long has it been since you saw him naked? You can't remember. The feeling leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
"Good." He hums as he puts on a tee. "I ordered some vegetable soup for you. It should make you feel better."
Once again, you nod.
"Oh, I found some broken glass on the floor. Did you get hurt?"
"No, I dropped a glass by accident."
"Oh. Well, I've cleaned it up so don't worry. I'll get the table ready. Freshen up. Let's eat it while it's hot." He says as he heads out of the room. You sit in silence for a while, processing the situation before doing as he asked.
-
The silence at the dinner table is borderline suffocating. The air between the two of you is tense and it chokes you as you have trouble swallowing the warm soup. You wonder if it's you who only feels this way. Your husband, sitting opposite you, eats his dinner in a relaxed manner and you have no idea what is going on in his head.
As impassive as ever.
"When did we become like this?" You whisper, almost to yourself as a wry smile sets onto your lips. Minghao's eyes lock with yours as he frowns. "What?"
You sit straight and clear your throat. You need to get this over with. "When did we become like this, Minghao? Since when has it become so tense between the two of us? It has been months since we shared a meal— since I shared a meal with my husband and what are we doing? We're acting like strangers, like we're not fucking married to each other! Like.... like everything is fine!"
"Everything is fine. What are you talking about?" His voice is calm and it makes your blood boil.
"Fine? Everything is fine?" You scoff. "When was the last time we went on a date? Okay, never mind, when was the last time we had sex? Or hugged each other? Or kissed properly? You know what, fuck all that, when was the last time we, a married couple had a proper conversation or saw each other for more than two minutes?" By now you have stood up and are yelling, your fists banging on the table as you pour out everything bottled up inside you.
Minghao's brow knit into a frown as he hears you ramble. He gently sets down his spoon and intertwines his fingers as he sits and stares at the table in silence.
"You actually think everything is fine, huh?" You're baffled. "You have nothing to say."
"You know how busy I have been." His voice is quiet.
The audacity of this man!
"How dare you say that, Minghao?" You seethe. "You are trying to tell me that for the past eight months, you've been so busy that you couldn't spend a few minutes of quality time with your wife?"
He remains silent and you feel like you are tumbling down an abyss of dark despair. He doesn't seem even a little bit worried or regretful. Has he truly moved past you or, is it...
"Have you found someone else, Hao?" Your voice is tiny. His wide eyes land on yours.
"What? No! How could you say that?"
"When you barely have time for your wife, one can think that, no?"
His lips form a hard line. "No, ____. I'm not seeing anyone. I've so much work to do I barely have time to sleep."
"Yeah, that's it. Work, work and work. All you do is work. I look at you and honestly, I feel like you're the only person in the world who works. I've never seen someone as busy as you, so we all must be jobless, huh?" You sneer.
Fury blazes in his eyes as he abruptly stands up, making the legs of the chair scratch loudly against the floor. "You have no right to talk like that! Do you know how much pressure is on me? Do you know how much people expect from me? Do you think we'd be living in this huge fucking house and driving nice fucking cars without my hard work?"
"That's the thing!" You scream. "I never wanted a huge house or a fucking car! I've only ever wanted you! I want my husband to be with me. I want to come back home to my husband and I want to be his priority just as he's mine. I just want you, Hao." Your voice cracks, your arms slumping at your sides in defeat.
He keeps scowling at you, his jaw clenched. Moments pass by and you expect him to say something but instead, he walks away from the dining table and towards the hanger by the door, from where he picks his coat, slings it on his shoulder and walks out the door.
You stay rooted in your spot, absolutely baffled.
Moments pass by as your brain processes everything that has taken place in the last ten minutes. And then, the headache returns. Stronger than before. So intense that you've to sit back down on the chair and clutch your head tightly.
The pain is strong enough to distract you from the fact that you are crying. When you realize, you're angrier at yourself.
The last thing you should be doing is shedding tears. You did nothing wrong. You addressed the elephant in the room and it is his fault for running away instead of talking to you.
Gosh, when did it become like this? When did he become like this?
More tears gather in your eyes as you think back to the times when things were not like now, when you never imagined one day it could come down collapsing.
You used to be each other's world. Where did it go wrong? Did you not try enough? Or is it simply the fact that he doesn't love you anymore?
The absolute despair makes you want to rip your hair out and you're more annoyed by the stupid headache, making you feel pathetic and weak. Trying to shake the pain and the tears off, you stand up and drag yourself to the bedroom, locking the door behind you.
If he comes back, he can sleep in the other room. There's no way you're letting him in your bed tonight.
Switching off all the lights, you crawl into bed and close your eyes, trying to tune out the throbbing in your head and the events of this evening.
-
You wake up with cold sweat. The first thing you feel is your headache which has gotten significantly worse since last night. It feels like someone is pounding against your temples and it's going to crack anytime soon.
The next thing that captures your attention is the early morning sunlight, pouring from the windows and flooding the room, in turn burning your eyes. Who the hell drew out all the blinds?
Then, you feel something against your cheek, warm and soft. Confused, you blink repeatedly, which proves to be a hard job due to the headache and try to focus your vision. Tilting your head just a little you find a man sitting by the bed, one of his hands stroking your cheek with the softest touch.
It's your husband, you realize after a second.
He looks different. Very different than last night. The harsh lines on his face, the anger in his eyes, the hardness in his jaw are all gone. They are replaced with a soft, worried gaze, his brows furrowed in concentration as he gapes at you intently, his lips parted just a bit. The morning light floods in from behind him, casting him with an ethereal glow and you forget to breathe for a second as you simply take in his beauty.
"Baby? You're awake?" He calls, shifting closer to you.
Baby. It has been a long time since he called you that. The fondness and love in his voice are ironically unsettling.
Swallowing, you try to speak but no words come out. You lick your lips and immediately your husband reaches for the bottle of water by the bed. Helping you move your head, he holds it against your lips, tilting it softly. "Drink, baby. Slowly."
Once you are done he sets the bottle back down and sighs heavily, "Gosh _____." He shakes his head. "Why did you lock the door? Do you know how sacred I got when I came home and found the door locked and you were not replying?"
It takes you a while to process what he's saying and once you realize it, you feel a little guilty. You did it to keep him out not intending to make him worry.
"Thank god we had spare keys," he sighs, rubbing his forehead before brushing away the hair over them. Then his eyes set on you. "Your head hurts doesn't it?"
You only nod.
He once again, sighs loudly as he gives you a look that is akin to what a mother looks like at her bratty child. "Why didn't you take some medicine last night?" He scolds, reaching for the folded towel beside you and wiping your forehead. "You need to eat now. Then you can have your medicine." He announces as he stands up. "Let me bring breakfast here. Do you need help to go to the bathroom?"
Bathroom. Right. Your bladder is bursting.
Pushing the covers away you shake your head as a reply and gently get out of bed. Despite your response, Minghao stretches his arms around you in case you lose your balance as you slowly head towards the bathroom.
"Don't lock the door." He commands once you're inside and heads of the room to get breakfast. You do your thing and as you wash your hands your eyes fall on the mirror, almost scaring you.
You look gaunt, tired and messy and it makes you cringe. You splash water on your face repeatedly in an attempt to look a bit more refreshed before admitting defeat and crawling back to bed. Soon after, Minghao returns, with a small foldable table that carries your breakfast. A healthy heap of pancakes, yogurt and berries with orange juice.
"I can't eat all that." You whisper.
"Shush." He gives you a pointed look, setting the table in front of you and starting to cut the pancake into pieces for you.
You want to protest but you're too tired and it feels nice to be doted by your husband. So you opt to just watch him, wondering what could have happened that caused such a dramatic flair in his behavior.
Your head hurts too much to think so you put a pause on those thoughts.
Once done cutting the pancakes into bite-sized pieces, he doesn't hand the fork to you but stabs a few pieces and holds them against your lips. Like an obedient child, you open your mouth and let him feed you.
And so, in silence, he repeats this motion and you happily comply, too tired to even move. Once you are finished eating, he quickly reaches for the cold medicine and drops a couple of pills in your palm with a glass of water. Once you've taken your pills he gives you a soft smile with a pat on your shoulder before taking all the utensils and placing them on the table as he heads out of the bedroom.
You start to feel drowsy, your eyelids starting to feel heavy once again as your head lies against the headboard. A while passes by and you suppose your husband is doing the dishes. Or maybe he's having breakfast. Has he eaten? You forgot to ask.
Just as your mind begins to wander, he's back. "Feeling sleepy?" Minghao asks, a fond smile on his lips as he notices your sleepy eyes. You hum and not, shifting to lie down and he's quick to rush over, helping you lie down and pull the covers up to your chest. Then you watch him close the curtains, darkening the room so that you can fall asleep.
"Sleep for a while. When you wake up, you'll feel a lot better, trust me." He says coming back over to you and much to your surprise, he crawls into the bed with you. You're even more surprised when he pulls you into his arms, placing your head right below his chin as he hugs your body, whispering, "I'll lie with you till you fall asleep."
The gesture warms your heart and gives your stomach butterflies but you say, "Are you sure? I'm sick. You could get sick too."
"Mhmm." Is the reply you get.
There's a beat of silence as you lay still in his arms before you ask, "Have you eaten?"
"Yeah. Just before you woke up."
Another pregnant pause, this one longer than before.
"We need to talk, you know." Your voice is as soft as a feather. You hear silence for a while, which makes your heart drum loudly against your ribcage.
What is he thinking?
"I know." You hear him sigh. His arms wrap around your shoulder tighter as he speaks. "We will when you feel better."
-
True to his words, you feel a hell lot better the next time you open your eyes. The sky is shaded with hues of orange and pink and blue, indicating dusk has fallen.
The bedroom is empty and you can't hear any sounds from outside, wondering if your husband is at work. It is the most probable scenario, considering he had spent so much time looking after you this morning.
With a sigh, you head for the bathroom and start drawing yourself a bath, in which you soak for a long long time. When your fingers are all pruned and you start to doze off, you get off, drying yourself and putting on some nice clothes.
You take your time brushing your hair and doing your skincare with special care since it has been a while since you felt like yourself.
Once done and happy with how you look you emerge from the bedroom to find the apartment empty as you had assumed. For a while, you contemplate whether to call your husband and ask about his whereabouts but you decide against it, not ready to go back to the previous routine.
Instead, to satisfy your growling stomach, you look through the cupboards and gather all the essentials to make yourself some grilled cheese. You're pleased to find your whole pantry stocked and you realize your husband took the liberty of doing the groceries when you were sick. Though it's a simple act, it warms your heart and makes you smile.
As you are toasting the bread for the grilled cheese, the front door opens, making you frown. A moment later, your husband pads into the main area and upon seeing you, knits his brows in confusion.
"Hey," you give him an awkward smile. He looks more puzzled. "Hey. Why are you cooking? Aren't you sick?"
"I feel a lot better and I was hungry." You shrug. You notice he is wearing what he was this morning and it makes you wonder where he actually was.
"Let me do that. You should rest some more."
"No, I'm fine, Hao. I'm tired of lying in bed all day. I need to do something." You decline as you reach for a piece of cheese and carefully put it on top of the bread. You can feel your husband's eyes trained on you and clearing your throat, you ask. "Where did you go?"
"Downstairs. Studio. Had to tie some loose ends."
Minghao's studio is on the first floor of this condo since you both decided that it would be better if he had a separate space for his work and not somewhere that is too far away from your home. So when you two came across a space on the first floor, you rented it out immediately.
Nodding, you focus on grilling your toast. You expect him to leave you, maybe go freshen up but he stays immobile in his spot, quietly watching you.
You frown. "Would you...like one?" You motion towards your grilled cheese. He shakes his head.
"We should talk."
There's a heavy pause in the air. You watch him for a few beats, swallowing the lump in your throat before nodding softly. "Yeah, we should."
It's time to lay all your cards on the table.
Turning the stove off you put aside your snack and take a seat on the couch. Your husband follows you and sits down right beside you but maintains a few meters of distance.
The tension is crackling in the air and as much as you'd like to break it, you've said all you had to yesterday, so now it's his turn to speak. Hence, you wait patiently.
"I'm sorry." His voice is quiet. "For lashing out at you yesterday. For everything."
You stare at your lap where your fingers fidget with each other.
"I... really don't know what is the right thing to say. I know I've fucked up big time and I'm...scared I'll disappoint you more." He breathes, his wide, pained eyes trained on your face.
You heave out a sigh. "I'm listening, Hao. I'm here and I'm listening."
"Right." He swallows, nodding before taking a deep breath and starting. "I'm sorry. I...got my priorities messed up. I took you for granted and I never should have done that. It's just that..." He swallows, searching for the right words as you watch him with patience. "I got lost in work. I mean, one day I have barely any orders and suddenly I have so many clients and so many events to show up at. I got lost. I didn't want to disappoint them but instead, I disappointed you and I didn't even realize it." He shakes his head at himself.
You feel awful for him and your hand itches to reach out and cup his cheek, smooth away the lines of worry on his face. But you hold yourself.
"I'm so fucking sorry. I could never apologize enough. But know that you've always been the most important thing in my life and you always will be. I just... forgot that. But now I'm here, ____. I'm here and I promise to never let you down again. Just give me another chance." His desperate eyes search for yours, his hands reaching for yours and holding them tightly.
"Oh Hao," you whisper, a lone tear traveling down your cheek. "No, no, no." His hands immediately wipe it away as he says, "Please, don't cry. I know you're mad at me and if you want to be alone, I'll let you be. I just needed— "
"Xu Minghao!" You admonish him with a pout. "I'm not really mad. Not anymore." You whisper.
You can literally see the burden weighing on his shoulders lift.
"Really?" His voice is like a gleeful child's.
You nod, moving closer to him and snaking your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his mullet. "Though you still have to do some work to make it up to me— "
"I promise I'll do anything."
"And, make sure this never happens again, hm? Whatever happens, don't push me away Hao. We're in this together. If you're busy let me know. Call me. I'll do anything to help you, my love."
Your husband's eyes turn glassy.
"I know. I'm...so sorry. I'm such a bad husband."
You frown. "No, Hao. Don't say that. You're a wonderful wonderful man and I'm so lucky to have you."
"Really?" A small smile makes his lips twitch.
"Really." You smile. "We all make mistakes, love. What's important is to learn from them and not repeat them. And I know how much painting means to you. You finally had your big break so I suppose you got a little overwhelmed."
His hands reach out to hold yours as he nods shakily. "Yes, I did get overwhelmed. But not anymore. I've got my priorities straight." His eyes gleam as you clearly hear the promise in his voice. It sets your body aflame.
"Good because you should get working on making it up to me. You can start by taking me to bed and you know..." You give him the bedroom eyes as your fingers trail over his neck, teasing him with your touch.
There's a spark in his eyes that shoots desire throughout your body. "Anything you want, my queen." He gives you a teasing smile.
You bite your lip as he quickly pulls you with him, feet moving straight towards the bedroom. As soon as you step in, he pushes you onto the bed and quickly starts taking off his cardigan and then his tank top.
You watch with a lust-fueled gaze, your husband's beautiful body appearing in front of your eyes after a long, long time. Giving you an almost shy smile, Minghao takes off your top for you, leaving you half bare and then kneeling to take your pants off. You aid him in his work as he tugs it off with your panties and a flurry of embarrassment courses through you as you remember you haven't shaved in a while.
Just as you attempt to hide yourself, your husband catches on and gives you an admonishing look. "Uh uh. None of that, let me see my beautiful wife."
He takes off your pants all the way along with your underwear and wastes no time burying his face between your thighs.
The sensation is delightful as you throw your head back and moan loudly, unashamed. One of your hands moves to his head, grabbing his hair in a fist as you hold him against you, grinding on his mouth. You hear your husband moan, the sound muffled against your core and feel his hands trailing up towards your chest as he pinches your nipples.
Another loud moan makes its way out of you as your breath stutters and you gasp, the feel of his hands on your starved body sending shockwaves throughout you. "H-Hao...I won't last..." You croak, hand fisting the bedsheets tightly. The only response you get is a hum as he starts eating you out with renewed vigor, his tongue mercilessly flicking against your clit.
You keep grinding your hips against his face, desperate to feel him even more while your mouth remains hung open with the onslaught of pleasure. It all becomes too much when your husband wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks, hard, making you dive head first into your orgasm. A broken cry escapes your lips as he keeps the torture going throughout your high, before finally pulling back and standing up with a satisfied smirk.
You remain limp in the bed, breathing heavily and watching your husband with hooded eyes, his lips glistening with your arousal and a prominent bulge in his pants. Before you can ask him to take them off, he does so and with a mischievous smile moves on top of you.
"Ready baby?" He whispers, his hands moving over his shaft to lube it up with precum. You can only nod, pulling him closer by the neck and kissing him deeply. As you do so, he slips in and your body tenses up as you cry out in a pleasure so beautiful it's overwhelming.
He hushes you, kissing your forehead, waiting for a few moments to let you adjust. You can feel how tense his body is, how harsh his breaths are as he stays immobile to make you feel better.
"Move, p-please. I'm okay." You whisper, eyes searching for his. He swallows and nods, finally giving you a good thrust that makes the two of you moan out loud in pleasure. "Shit," he chokes, eyes screwed tight as he builds up a pace thrusting slow but deep inside you. "I'm not gonna last long." He breathes.
"Me neither," you whisper, your eyes only on him as your nails claw into his back. Even though your bodies are pressed against each other, that doesn't seem to be enough for you as you keep pulling him closer and closer, wrapping your body fully around his, your head resting on his shoulder.
The time away from each other suddenly washes over you, making you realize once again, just how much you truly missed him, his touch, his attention. So you cling to him like a koala as he builds up his pace and when you start feeling that particular tingle, that jolt of electricity down your spine, you warn. "Hao, g-gonna come."
"Thank fuck, love. I'm coming too. Come with me, I've got you." He whispers into your ear, holding you tightly in his arms as he delivers one final thrust and you see stars behind your eyelids as you come with a loud wail of his name.
It takes some time for you to come back to your senses fully and register your surroundings. Once you do, you find your husband lying next to you, arms around your torso, eyes closed as he breathes heavily. The stickiness of his come between your legs makes you wince and want to move but you decide against it, snuggling with your husband instead.
Everything else can wait. Now that you have finally got what you've been longing for, you simply let yourself relax and breathe in his scent, enjoying the moment.
As you both lie in silence, basking in the afterglow, your throat constricts all of a sudden and there's a heavy feeling settling in your heart. "Hao?" You croak. Your voice brings your husband to act immediately as he rests on one of his elbows and peeks a worried glance at you. "What's wrong, my love? Did I hurt you?"
A lone tear leaks down your eye at his tenderness. You reach up to his face, your fingers softly trailing over his gorgeous features. "No, no you didn't. I just— I really missed you, husband."
"Oh love," Minghao quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you right into his chest and letting you breathe in his scent. It's your place of comfort and healing as you exhale a shaky breath, letting go of all the painful memories.
"I missed you too. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Now all I'll do is make it up to you. Fuck everything else."
"What? No— your works... you have got a deadline. The Kim family asked you to — "
"They can wait. My only priority is you."
"Minghao," you try to give him a stern glare. "It's millions of dollars."
"And you're worth more." He shrugs, dropping a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Besides I've been needing a break for the longest time. I'm sure Mingyu will understand. I'm his friend, after all."
"Still...are you sure?" You whisper.
"A thousand percent. Let's go on a vacation, wife. Take a few days off, hmm?" He asks, hope brimming in his eyes.
You sigh as you rub your temples and give in. "Okay. I will. The past few weeks sucked. I guess I need a break too."
He smiles, blindingly beautiful and your heart soars with happiness. "How about Rome?" He whispers, trailing his lips over your jaw and down your throat.
"Mhmm," you only him, eyes falling close at the sensation.
"Also...there's something I wanted to propose to you." He pulls back to focus his eyes on you, his voice suddenly serious. You raise a brow at his sudden change in demeanor.
"It's about time we start working on making a baby, no?"
Your eyes widen at the proposal before heat spreads throughout your face. "H-Hao— " You're too stunned to speak.
"It's okay if you aren't ready, my love— "
"No! No! I'm ready! I'm ready." You fling your arms around your husband's shoulders. "I just... didn't expect you to bring it up. I thought you wanted to wait longer...?"
You hear his soft chuckle as he wraps one arm around you while cradling your head with the other. "As I said, I'm getting my priorities straight."
You can't help grinning like a goofball. "This better not be a split second decision, Xu Minghao. It is no easy feat to raise a baby." You try to sound stern. He nods solemnly, "I know, love. But I'm ready." His fingers lace with yours. "I want this. With you."
You pretend to release a dramatic sigh.
"Then let's get started, shall we?"
a/n: ik this was a rather plain fic but I thought I should write something simple for a change. i feel like the plot of this was a realistic one, even though it might be simple and predictable. we often overlook these storylines due to its simplicity but I believe they have their own charm. hope you enjoyed reading this and your feedbacks are highly appreciated!
the sea , the shore and you ♡
svt jeonghan ★ gn reader
est relationship. fluff
────୨ৎ────
the sun was almost gone , the waves were rising higher now , coming further on the shore.
you were still damp from the ocean, salt in your hair, your oversized shirt sticking to your skin. jeonghan had insisted staying at the beach to see the sunset instead of heading back — “golden hour, baby”, he’d said, swinging your intertwined hands between you as you walked along the shore for a while.
you were barefoot , one hand intertwined with him , while the other held pretty shells you found hidden in the sand.
his sandals were in his other hand as he took in the view.
he hadn’t spoken in a while.
you thought maybe he was just tired from your long day of beach activities and exploring the city.
but then he stopped.
you turned to him, confused.
“what’s wrong ? you feeling okay hannie ?"
he was staring at you like you’d just solved something for him. like he’d been doing a puzzle his whole life and hadn’t realized the last piece was right in front of him.
“nothing,” he said, but his voice was too soft to mean that.
he stepped a little closer. “can i tell you something?”
you nodded, heart suddenly tight.
“i think…”
he hesitated.
then, with a shaky exhale—like he couldn’t hold it in anymore:
“i think i wanna marry you.”
you blinked , slightly taken aback by his sudden confession. the world suddenly stopped. your ears heard static.
“not now,” he rushed , coming closer to you. “not tomorrow or next week or anything crazy. just—someday. i want it to be you. it’s always been you.” he declared , voice trailing off.
the wind picked up. you weren’t sure if it was the breeze or your body shaking.
jeonghan smiled faintly. “it’s not a proposal, i swear. i just—I’ve been thinking about it all day. watching you talk to that kid who was scared of the waves, and how you laugh when you’re eating ice cream too fast, and how you never let me forget sunscreen even when i pretend i don’t burn—”
you laughed through your tears. “you do burn.”
“shh, i’m having a moment,” he whispered, grinning.
then softly , he continued , “just—when i think about home, i think about you.”
you closed the gap between the both of you as rested your forehead against his.
“say it again,” you murmured.
“i wanna marry you.”
you kissed him, slow and sweet and full of things you hadn’t said yet either.
when you pulled back, he tugged something from his pocket — a small ring he made from seaweed and a shell he found on the beach.
“don’t freak out,” he warned, laughing. “this is just for the bit.”
you held out your hand anyway.
he slipped it on. it was too big and stuck to your skin a little , but it was perfect.
“a perfect fit,” you said, smiling , looking at the ring and admiring his efforts.
jeonghan looked at you like he wanted to remember every second of this. to tattoo this image of you in his brain and never forget.
that whenever he closes his eyes — you are the only thing he sees.
to burn this image into his eyesight forever.
“someday,” he whispered again.
“someday.” you echoed.
fic talk ⭐ lmk which song this reminded u off / you associate with it !!
miya : i wrote this after listeninh to bahama by aespa :3 hehe
♡ or ↻ if u enjoyed <3 helps me stay motivated to post more n more <33
ilysm if u read this :D
Summary: Minghao had always prided himself on his control, of his movements, his time, his thoughts. But lately, nothing feels in control. The packed schedule, the jetlag, the pressure to be both present and perfect, it wears him down. And the worst part? He snaps at you, the one person who’s never demanded anything of him except his truth. When your silence lingers longer than usual, he finally realizes that in trying to keep himself together, he’s been slowly breaking what mattered most.
It wasn’t like him to raise his voice.
In fact, it wasn’t like him to lose composure at all.
Which is why your heart shattered the moment his tone changed from silence to sharpness.
You had only asked him if he was okay.
The words weren’t loaded with suspicion, weren’t laced with accusation. Just soft concern, because Minghao had been different these past few days.
Distant. Distracted. Even when he sat beside you, it felt like his soul was far away.
“Minghao… can we talk?”
He was seated on the floor of your shared apartment’s living room, paintbrush still in hand, working on a half-finished canvas. The colors were messier than usual, bolder, angrier strokes that didn’t blend the way they used to.
He didn’t look up. “Later.”
“It’s already been days,” you said quietly, kneeling next to him. “You haven’t been sleeping properly. You keep ignoring your phone. I know something’s wrong.”
That was when he finally looked at you.
And his eyes weren’t blank, they were tired. Agitated.
“Why do you always assume something’s wrong when I’m quiet?” he snapped. “Maybe I just want space.”
You flinched. “I didn’t mean to suffocate you.”
He scoffed, dropping the brush into the jar of murky water beside him. “That’s not what I said. I just— can’t you just let me be for one night?”
You blinked, stunned. He never spoke to you like that. Minghao, who was always composed and intentional with his words, who used silence more often than sound, had just bitten into you with edge.
“…Okay,” you said softly. “I’ll give you space.”
You stood up and walked toward the bedroom, leaving the living room in a tense silence. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You knew enough about Minghao to understand he didn’t shout easily, so if he did, it meant something was really wrong. And that scared you more than anything.
The silence between you stretched for hours.
You lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The sound of his quiet breathing from the living room was the only thing breaking the silence. But it was suffocating in its own way.
Every time you thought about speaking up, your heart tightened. What could you say? Was it worth breaking the silence with your own hurt?
Minutes turned to hours.
Finally, at around 3 a.m., the stillness felt unbearable. You turned to your side, clutching your pillow. You could feel your chest tighten as the weight of the day crushed you. Your mind replayed his words over and over. Maybe you had suffocated him. Maybe you were being selfish, demanding his attention when all he needed was a moment to himself.
Minghao, on the other hand, sat quietly in the living room, the unfinished canvas in front of him.
He had been trying to paint, but the brush had only skimmed the surface of the paper. The colors on the canvas were distorted, not because he lacked the talent, he had that in abundance, but because everything within him was so disordered, he couldn’t bring himself to create anything that felt right.
His fingers trembled with the weight of his emotions, and guilt gnawed at him.
He had snapped at you. He had shut you out. You didn’t deserve that. You were the one person who had always been there for him, no demands, no expectations. You loved him when the world expected him to be perfect.
Why did he always think he had to deal with everything alone?
At that moment, he stood up and walked toward the bedroom door.
It wasn’t locked. He pushed it open slowly, wincing when the hinges creaked softly. There, in the dim light, he saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, your back facing him.
His heart clenched.
“Y/N,” he whispered, stepping into the room.
You didn’t answer. Your body was tense, your breathing shallow.
He stood there for a moment, unsure. His voice faltered when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”
You didn’t respond.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His words felt hollow, even to him. He wanted to say more, but the fear of pushing you further away paralyzed him.
After what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke, your voice soft but steady. “You didn’t hurt me, Minghao. But you shut me out. You always shut me out when things get hard.”
Minghao bit his lip, his fists clenching. “I didn’t want to pull you into my mess. I thought if I stayed quiet long enough, I’d figure it out on my own.”
You slowly turned to face him, your eyes glistening. “You can’t always figure it out alone, Hao. And I never wanted to be someone who made you feel like you had to.”
His heart ached at the words you spoke. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help.
“I’m sorry. I—I’m not good at this. At talking about what’s wrong, at asking for what I need.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling utterly lost. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just… everything feels so loud. The world feels loud. And I thought if I kept quiet, it would all stop.”
You reached out, softly cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay to not be okay, Minghao. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. Not when I’m here.”
His chest tightened, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. He wasn’t used to letting people in, especially not when it came to his weaknesses. He didn’t know how to share the storm inside him.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you. I’m scared I’ll push you away until there’s nothing left.”
You pulled him closer, guiding his head onto your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you.”
He let out a shaky breath, finally allowing himself to cry. He clung to you, his body trembling with the force of emotions he’d kept locked away for too long.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he murmured between sobs. “I didn’t mean it.”
You held him tighter. “You didn’t. You just don’t know how to let go of the pain. But I’m here. I’ll help you. We’ll get through it together.”
After a long while, he pulled back slightly, his eyes red and swollen from crying. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You don’t need to deserve anything. You just need to be.”
He nodded slowly, tears still lingering in his eyes. “Thank you… for staying. For not leaving when I made it hard.”
You smiled softly, brushing away the tears on his cheek. “I’ll always stay. I love you. Even when you can’t see it, I’m here.”
Minghao leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you. And I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better. I won’t shut you out again.”
You kissed his forehead softly, then pulled him back into your embrace, letting him know with every touch, every word, that he was no longer alone.
And for the first time in days, Minghao felt like he could breathe. The storm inside him had calmed, and with you by his side, he knew he could weather any storm that came next.
𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓵; if you don't have a Valentine's date, don't worry you're not alone! regardless, grab a drink and settle in this Valentine's week because I am thrilled to present my first ever collab: Secret Cupid!
Secret Cupid is an event dedicated to gaining new community and interactions. Within this event I have assigned each writer a random fellow writer to curate a fic around. They were given some guidelines, such as what their giftee's favorite tropes were, but other than that were given full creative freedom. So you can expect to enjoy a wide array of stories, from smut to angst to romance.
This project was launched back in November to help expand community, to interact with writers you wouldn't have interacted with otherwise. And so please take advantage of the variety of stories below and enjoy!
The fics will be released during the full week of Valentine's. Each fic will be added to the masterlist below as it is released. If you would like to be tagged with each addition, please leave a comment below!
Thank you, and have a happy Valentine's!
𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪-𝓼
「 ♥ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ♥ 」
✎ @bitchlessdino for alta 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: good roommates don't
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― xu minghao x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate.
✎ @chanranghaeys for lexi 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: complementary wavelengths
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― chwe vernon x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: professor vernon x teacher reader, non-idol au, distant college friends to -, first love
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: wouldn’t falling in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the research study? you had no idea. but if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.
✎ @ddeonghwa-s
✎ @diamonddaze01 for adrianne 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: bound by blood and fate
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― joshua hong x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: assassin!shua, hacker!reader, red string of fate au
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: “Tell me something, soldier,” you whispered, your voice low, carrying just enough venom to draw blood. “Does your fate feel like a noose?”
✎ @gyuhanniescarat
✎ @haologram
✎ @heechwe for ally 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: anything for you
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― jeon wonwoo x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: smut n romance, best friends to lovers au, drunk confession
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Wonwoo has been your best friend forever. And maybe something more could be in the cards with a mature, sophisticated confession. Or a lot of alcohol.
✎ @jenoslutie
✎ @kpopflowerfield
✎ @kwanisms for cherry 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: HELP! My Neighbor is an Alien a Porn Star
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― hong jisoo x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: fluff (in the form of comedy), smut (hella); sex work, porn industry, neighbors to lovers; non idol au, alien au, porn star au
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Neighbors come and go and for Y/N, this is inevitable. Which is why she never bothered to get to know her neighbors. She owns her townhouse while the two on either side of her are rentals. When a new neighbor moves in, she doesn’t think much of it until she sees the extremely attractive and single man moving in next door. She learns his name is Joshua and that there’s more than meets the eye; a whole lot more.
✎ @lovetaroandtaemin for bambi 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: team building
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― kwon soonyoung x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: Smut, angst, fluff, some crack
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: When Y/N and her annoying coworker Soonyoung are forced to share a hotel room during a business trip, tensions are high.
✎ @nebulousbrainsoup
✎ @seokgyuu for eunha 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: hate u love u
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― choi seungcheol x f!reader x yoon jeonghan
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: smut, comedy, established relationship, enemies/rivals to lovers, academic rivals
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Before you started dating Seungcheol, you had been best friends with him for all of your life. Simultaneously, Seungcheol has been best friends with Jeonghan - whom you despise. He has been your rival since first grade and not just in terms of Seungcheol’s friendship but everything else too. Academics, sports, and now the attention of one very special professor who could open every door you ever wished to open…
✎ @shuadotcom for jessi 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: strawberry sunday
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― yoon jeonghan x fem!reader x kim mingyu
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: smut, best friend’s brother, fuckbuddies (is this a trope???) non!idol au, pwp
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: When your best friend is away, you and Jeonghan always find time to play. This time he invites his friend to play along and things get a little messy - in the literal sense.
✎ @soongyeopsal for sky 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: friends & family
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― chwe vernon x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: humor, smut, pwp / best friend’s brother, friends to lovers
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Hansol gives you a deal that you didn’t even need to bargain for.
✎ @strxwberry-skiess
✎ @svtiddiess for hanuel 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: the fae in my heart
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― xu minghao x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: fae husband hao, fluff, hurt/comfort, slight angst, happy ending, established relationship, non-idol! au, fantasy! au
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Overwhelmed with work, you begin to neglect your husband without realising it. Ignoring his quiet efforts to care for you and accidentally destroying something he poured his heart into creating, you wound him deeply. Can you mend the rift, regain his love, and earn his forgiveness?
✎ @tusswrites
✎ @uhdrienne for jasmine 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: the embodiment of grace and deviousness
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― choi seungcheol x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: sfw, fluff, angst, mafia au, soulmate au
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: as an author, it's almost poetic that your soulmate tattoo would be a flower. actually... half a flower. a snapdragon, to be exact. the petals on your arm, the vines on seungcheol's. it's even more cliche when you meet him on valentine's day. to you it means grace, but for seungcheol, he still has zero idea on what flower his tattoo is. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious at all, but during this season of love, you're about to figure out exactly what this all means for you and him, the leader of the city's most dangerous mafia.
✎ @yoonguurt for rachel 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― title: shit, i'm a simp too
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― lee jihoon x fem!reader
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― tags: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers
˚ ⋆ ୨୧― synopsis: Jihoon always joins in when his group of friends makes fun of Mingyu for being a simp for his girlfriend. It isn’t that he thinks that a man shouldn’t go above and beyond for their significant other, it’s just that he hasn’t had a girlfriend that makes him want to go that far. Maybe one day, though.
⭑.ᐟ His Personal Sunshine - Boo Seungkwan x reader
genre: blurb, fluff, established relationship
word count: 248
warnings: none
rating: PG / SFW
Disclaimer: My works are fictional and do not reflect real-life situations, cultures, or individuals. All characters are purely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.
You’re standing in the kitchen, doing the dishes, when Seungkwan comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Vernon’s unsure if the two of you have forgotten he’s there, or if you just don’t think he can see you. But he does, and he watches with a fond smile.
When Seungkwan first told him he met someone, Vernon wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. He was fragile at the moment you met, and he didn’t want to see his best friend get hurt even more. But when he met you, it all changed.
You’re like the sun reflected in a calm river. Bright and positive, but calmer than Seungkwan is. There’s something peaceful about you that Seungkwan needed in his life, at least that’s what Vernon thinks. His friend has never been happier, and that's all he requires.
So, when he looks at you now, he’s content. Seungkwan says something to you that Vernon can’t hear, and you laugh. Vernon can’t help but notice Seungkwan’s proud smile. Every moment that he makes you happy is something he’s proud over. He sees the way that Seungkwan squeezes you a little tighter, and presses a kiss to your cheek, and you smile at his affection. Vernon looks down, giving you the privacy that neither of you even knew that you didn’t have.
Still, he hears your laugh, and Seungkwan’s excited tone as he continues talking, and thinks that his friend has really met the one.
You and Hao were sitting on the couch, casually chatting about something neither of you would remember later. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with him, but your thoughts weren’t entirely on the topic. You had something else in mind (his lips).
As he talked, you found yourself staring at his lips, unable to resist the temptation. You decided to give it a shot—"the triangle method" you saw this on your feed last time and wanted to check if this is legit. Slowly, you glanced at his eyes, then his lips, and then back to his eyes again.
Minghao didn’t pause. He didn’t even blink.
Instead, he leaned in and gave you a quick, soft kiss before pulling back and continuing the conversation as though nothing had happened. His expression was still nonchalant, so perfectly composed, that you thought he hadn’t even noticed what you were trying to do.
You blinked, a little stunned, and sat there quietly as he kept talking. Does he not know about that method? you wondered. Did he kiss me by accident? The questions swirled in your mind, but you didn’t voice any of them.
Then, out of nowhere, he turned to you with a sly grin. “If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so,” he teased, his tone mocking but still playful.
Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you glared at him. “I wasn’t—!” you started, but he raised an eyebrow knowingly, cutting you off without a word.
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Okay, fine. Would you have kissed me if I asked???”
His response was immediate. “No.” His expression didn’t waver, completely unfazed.
You clicked your tongue in annoyance, turning your face away from him. He chuckled at your reaction, finding your little pout adorable. Without missing a beat, he reached over and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer until you were perched on his lap.
Startled, you looked at him with wide eyes. “What?” you muttered, your sulking tone still evident.
Minghao leaned back against the couch, his arms loosely wrapped around you. “Don’t sulk,” he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying your annoyed state.
“I’m not sulking,” you shot back, though your pout betrayed your words.
His laughter was soft and warm, and before you could say anything else, he leaned in and pecked your lips. “Sorry,” he murmured softly.
Another peck. “I’m…”
And another. “…so…”
One more, his lips lingering just a second longer this time. “…sorry.”
Your sulkiness melted away as his kisses continued, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly. “You’re only sorry because you feel bad for teasing me,” you said, though your words lacked any real bite.
“Maybee,” he admitted with a shrug, his hands tightening around your waist. “But you’re so cute when you get pouty.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You always need to have the last word hu?,” you muttered, leaning forward to kiss him properly this time.
minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.
'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'
'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'
he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.
'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'
shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.
'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'
'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'
'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'
minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'
'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'
and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'
five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'
'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.
reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'
hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'
it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'
'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that will never, ever let you go.'
a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini
i would love dokyeom, joshua, or minghao!! but i'm open to any :)) ty for responding to my ask!🩷🩷🩷
-🫧
hi hi! happy that you came back <3 hmm let's go wth mr.hong and i added evacuation thing here as well, hopef it's fine!
joshua + bad weather
not to panic. that's the first thing that joshua tries to do when everyone around him starts to scatter with shouts and screams. he als hurries, but for entirely different reasons - he doesn't need to get to his house fast, he needs to get fast to you. when first his calls don't go through, he starts sweating underneath his linen shirt. parking lot is busy as hell and joshua makes a beeline towards his car, all while trying to get a hold of you: he calls, facetimes, gets on whatsapp and tries to call from there too. hearing your voice is his biggest priority right now and he's not proud of the way his hands shake a little, when he grips the steering wheel. if you don't pick up -
'josh.' your voice breaks the silence and joshua freezes.
'my love,' joshua breathes out. relief floods his body so suddenly, it makes him a little lightheaded. 'finally. you weren't picking up-'
'i'm sorry, i just got out of the shower..' you hiccup and your next words break his heart: 'i'm so scared, shua.'
'oh, darling.' his knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping steering wheel. 'i'm coming, alright? go and dry your hair, try not to think about it, yeah? we've got out emergency bag ready, my love. you remember where it is, right?'
'yeah,' your voice trembles and joshua is about to get all the speeding tickets in the world for how fast he's going to drive to your house.
'we have it, love. we've got everything ready, so just go and dry your hair, okay? change into something comfortable. i'll be home faster than you can blink.'
if joshua can cut himself open and take away all of your fear, he would. he'd withstand any kind of pain just to take yours away, all just not to see anxiety cloud your mind. this is not the first time notification of upcoming tornado breaks his day and also not the first one when he received a following evacuation text. since the time he leared about your fears regarding bad weather, he made sure to always have two things: emergency bag and a middle-sized luggage with necessities ready. he knows having these around calms you down and he is ready to do anything if it guarantees your peace of mind. the thought of you being alone in the house, caught off guard with these messages when you just go out of the shower - joshua can imagine your level of confusion and anxiousness; he presses ont he gas pedal with all his might. he's not very concerned with his own safety - joshua regards events like these as inevitables ones, where keeping a cool head will do you good, so he doesn't really worry all that much about evacuation. you, however, is a different case altogether.
'love?' he calls out, pushing the door open. his gaze instantly latches on both emergency bag and a luggage standing in the corner and he rushes to the bedroom, calling out your name.
joshua pauses in the doorway, staring at your fragile figure. you changed into comfortable clothes and your hair is up in a messy bun - your fingers are shaking when you're trying to close the zipper on the hoodie. silently coming up close to you, he gently removes your hands and drags the zipper up, stopping midway to your chest. you don't look up but he can see your lips trembling and his hands pull you on him in the next second, hugging you tight. 'i'm here, love, i'm here. it's okay.'
'it's going to be bad,' you whimper into his shoulder. 'if they asked to evacuate, it's going to be so bad, shua-'
'and we will not be here,' joshua interrupts, making you look at him. he tries to sound as convincing as he only can: 'and we will not be here. you and i will be together and very, very far from here, love. nothing will get us.'
your eyes are searching for something on his face and joshua pulls on his best brave face to soothe your worries: it kind of works, based on how you sag in his arms. 'i'm scared,' you admit, clutching his hand.
in all sincerity, joshua is not very brave. but when he's with you, he wants to be brave, wants to act as a shield for you, wants to protect you from everything that causes you distress. he leans in, kisses your forehead and slowly starts pulling you towards the door. 'i know, darling. but you did so good, i saw the bag and the luggage. good job on pulling them out and to the hallway, my dear.'
talking helps you, that's what joshua realized from all the time you've been together. he talks as you two grab things and pack everything into his car. he talks as he hands you a fluffy blanket he always keeps at the backseat and readjusts your seat till you're comfortable. he talks as he drives through the traffic, doing just what he promised you - getting you two very, very far away. sky is rapidly changing in color and wind picks up - joshua takes your hand in his and squeezes. 'don't be scared, my love.'
you smile, albeit a bit shakily. 'i'm not,' you lie. 'you are with me and that's the most important part.' and that is not a lie.
joshua smiles. when he sees how you're trying to put up a brave face, what other option he has apart from being brave? 'i'll always be with you,' he promises honestly. 'close your eyes, love. it's a long road.'
he knows how hard it is for you, but you do close your eyes, trying to calm your breathing. he squeezes your hand and you squeeze it back. it will all be alright.
a/n: writing shua always makes me a bit emotional :') hope you liked this one! - nini
Synopsis: Joshua Hong is nice. Too nice. He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special. The answer is, no. Problem is, he's your coworker and your neighbor.
Content: Fluff | Coworkers to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers | Office AU
Tags: slightly insecure reader, totally inspired by the Youngji chocolate milk grandchildren interview, lots of elevators, lots of tension, a bit of drinking, mutual pining, "sweetheart" as a petname, gentleman agenda indeed, except he goes a bit mad at the end, seungkwan is a comedic genius, woozi is the wingman of the year, konglish w/ context clues, reader is scared of loud noises, no "y/n"
Word Count: 10K
────୨ৎ──── Monday ────୨ৎ────
Joshua Hong is nice. Really nice. He opens the door for you every morning walking into work. He insists that he carries heavy file boxes from your boss’ office to your desk. He buys you coffee from the cafe down the street, knowing that the instant machine is almost always broken. Whenever he passes you in the hallway, he always smiles and mouths “fighting!” He notices when your enthusiastic mask slips and your tiredness peaks through. He tells you not to work so hard, and asks if you’ve been sleeping well.
He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special.
But the answer is, no.
“He’s just like that. He’s nice to everyone. Get a grip.”
You sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging above your vanity. You’ve been absentmindedly rubbing moisturizer on your cheeks for the last three minutes, at least, thinking about your coworker. How have you gotten to the point of talking to yourself in attempts to rationalize the thoughts of him clouding your mind?
All of a sudden, your alarm rings. You jolt upright, reminded that you have to leave your tiny apartment and head over to your equally small office cubicle.
You quickly stand up from your vanity chair, then walk over to your closet to grab a jacket. Relying on muscle memory, your hand moves toward the hook it always lies on, only to swipe at air.
The one and only winter coat you own isn’t there.
You groan, remembering that you’d put it in the laundry bin after staining it with beer over the weekend, at that disastrous company “bonding” event. You look down at the taupe sweater you’re wearing, pinching the material to guess if it’d be warm enough. It’s barely a centimeter of fabric.
Glancing at the time on your phone, you decide that the thin sweater would just have to do.
You turn back to the mirror to do one last check of your appearance, when something catches your eye. Sitting on your bedside table is the plushie Joshua had won for you at the arcade. The bunny stares back at you innocently. You’d placed it there last night before crashing out on your bed, fatigued from the chaos of the company outing—or, more specifically, the secondhand embarrassment recalling your attempts at trying to be normal around Joshua.
You shake your head roughly. You could cringe at yourself on the way to work. Grabbing your work bag and shoving your shoes on, you rush over to the door.
Squaring your shoulders, you open it and walk out. And for a moment, as you’re turning your key to lock the door, you think that you’ll be alone for the commute to work for once.
But then you hear a familiar voice.
“Good morning!”
You tense, heart beginning to race, then turn around with a weak smile.
“Hi, Joshua.”
Somehow, you’re not only coworkers with your crush, but also next door neighbors.
“Hey,” he says, then takes a sharp breath. “It’s pretty cold today. Is that sweater going to be warm enough?”
“I’ll be fine,” you say, avoiding eye contact as you drop your keys into your bag. “It can’t be that cold.”
You adjust the bag strap on your shoulder and walk toward the elevator on your floor, pressing the down button. It immediately opens.
“You sure?”
You nod as the two of you walk inside the elevator.
Hoping he’ll stop pushing you on your lack of a coat, you ask, “Did you look into the McKinley and Lee file yet?”
“Come on, it’s not even 9am and you’re already attacking me with work!” Joshua dramatically clutches his chest, then lightly punches your arm. “What’d we say about 워라밸, huh?”
You feel your face getting hot, your right hand reflexively going up to where he’d touched your left arm. Was it always this toasty in the elevator?
Meeting his eyes for the first time today, you say, “Yeah, yeah, work-life balance. You’re right.”
His lips turn up and his eyes crinkle into bright crescent moons. You find yourself smiling back at him, despite having tried so hard to avoid his stupidly sweet gaze.
“I’m just teasin’, you know?” he says, leaning casually against the steel walls of the small elevator.
“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble again, rubbing the handle of your bag and tapping your foot to give yourself something else to focus on, suddenly aware that the two of you were alone.
God, could the elevator move any slower? Fidgeting with the loose threads of your sweater, you were on the verge of melting from being near his vicinity for so long.
Ever since Joshua Hong had arrived two months ago as a transfer from the Seoul branch, you haven’t gone a day without running into him. It was HR’s fault, really. The Human Resources department had placed him in yours, and also gave him the company-funded apartment next door to you.
He’d spent so much time around you that, if you didn’t see the people who regularly flocked to him, you’d think you were his only friend in the States. It was, and still is, ridiculous. His constant presence has meant that you are constantly aware of yourself. Of how you’re breathing too loud, and how your heart is beating too fast, and how you were in too much of a rush to do your full routine this morning. He makes you care more than usual about how well you perform at work, and, worse, he makes you think about how happy and funny you appear to be.
The way he teases you for being nervous (although that’s only because he’s around practically all the time) and the way he always notices when you aren’t feeling well—it’s as if he sees right through you. Yes, he sees right through you, and it’s incredibly scary knowing he could confront you at any time—maybe even in this elevator—and say that he’s known all along that you’ve had feelings for him. And what’s worse is that you know he’d be polite with his rejection. He’d be a gentleman, carefully letting you down with—
“Hello? Hellooo?” Joshua says, waving his hand in front of your face.
You jump, blinking rapidly. “Huh? Sorry, what?”
“We’re here, sweetheart,” he says gently.
“Oh,” you reply lamely.
He gestures with his hand for you to walk out of the elevator first. Inside the lobby, he walks by your side. As the two of you approach the door, he reaches it first, and opens it for you to head outside.
You’re immediately hit with a blast of winter and harsh winds. Your arms instinctively tighten around your stomach, trying to prevent the cold air from rushing up your sweater.
Joshua turns to you, brows furrowed. His eyes glance over your sweater again, and you can tell he’s about to say something. Certain it’s an I told you so, you quickly say, “Before you start, I’m fine. It’s really not that cold, and the bus is coming soon anyway.”
You march forward toward the crosswalk before the bus stop, knowing he’s following behind you. Once you reach the start of the white lines, you slow down to a stop, waiting for the signal to change.
Still behind you, Joshua says, “거기 있어봐.”
“왜?” Though confused, you listen to his request to stay where you are. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling somewhat awkward just standing with your back turned to him.
He doesn’t answer your question why, but you hear a shuffle and the sound of fabric rustling. Then you feel a warm coat draped over your shoulders.
You turn back to face Joshua with a start, opening your mouth to protest.
But before you can get a word out, he takes his pointer finger and lightly presses it against your lips.
“Shh,” he says with a smile. “Tomorrow, wear a jacket, okay?” He pats the top of your head.
Speechless, you barely bring yourself to nod, then remember to shut your jaw. Let’s just survive this bus ride, you tell yourself. God, it was unfair how nice he was. It only made it harder for you to believe he was like this with everyone—or to stop hoping that, somehow, you might be the exception.
────୨ৎ──── Tuesday ────୨ৎ────
Ever since you showed up to work on Monday wearing Joshua’s coat, your coworkers have been speculating nonstop about your nonexistent relationship with the man. More specifically, your two closest friends in the department, Boo Seungkwan and Lee Jihoon, have had a lot to say.
Today would be no different. Huddled around the coffee table in the break room with Seungkwan and Jihoon, you’ve been roped into listening to their comments.
Eyes darting between the two of them, you silently sip on your coffee.
“I’m a hundred percent sure now. I swear it’s real, he likes her,” Seungkwan says, waving his hands in the air like a madman.
Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Remember when you said that the delivery guy had a crush on this one,” he replies while pointing at you, “only for it to be me? Your 촉 is trash.”
Seungkwan scrunches his nose, and huffs in your direction, as if you’re going to defend his skill of guessing office relationships. (You’re not.)
“Your hunch is horrible, I said,” Jihoon says, goading him.
“No,” Seungkwan frantically shakes his head. “That was a one off. Remember when I said the nepo baby in Finance liked Director Chun’s secretary? He kept staring at her and nobody believed me but I was right!”
Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Lucky guess.”
“No, no, no, my 촉 is excellent, thank you very much.” Seungkwan turns to you, all pouty. “You trust my 촉, right?”
Finding the entire conversation ridiculous, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. Though Seungkwan prides himself on his supposedly superior hunches, he is really only accurate half the time.
You raise your coffee cup to your lips and sip on the liquid inside, a perfect state in between steaming hot and lukewarm.
“Kkah, this coffee is great,” you say to Seungkwan, ignoring his question.
His eyes suddenly widen, and he frantically waves his pointer finger at you. “Oh, oh! Another thing! He always gets you coffee from that expensive place next door, Cafe whatever. He never gets us coffee, but he always gets you coffee.”
Taken aback, you put the cup down, saying, “No way, he does that for a lot of people. He bought coffee for the receptionist like, last week.”
“That’s because it was her birthday,” Seungkwan says.
“And how’d you know that?” you ask.
“Because there were happy birthday balloons next to her desk?” Seungkwan says matter-of-factly.
“Well—” you retort, before getting cut off.
“You know,” Jihoon suddenly interjects. “I hate to agree, but it’s true. Joshua doesn’t do that for anyone else.”
“Right?” Seungkwan exclaims, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Come on, I’m so right. Woozi said I’m right. Trust the 촉.”
You rub your temples, feeling ambushed by your loud friends.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You wave them off as you stand up from the little coffee table chair you’d been sitting on for the last few minutes. “I’m going to head out.”
“Where are you going?” Seungkwan asks.
“Away from you,” you joke.
“I know you’re going to the vending machine,” Jihoon accuses. "You always get a snack after coffee."
You raise your hands in mock surrender.
“Can you get me a granola bar, then? You know the one I like, the blueberry one.” Seungkwan asks.
“Oh, and a Coke Zero for me?” Jihoon adds. “Y’know, not everyone has a coffee fairy named Joshua, like you do.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “You know it’s not like that. Besides, you guys just love using my money, don’t you?”
“Guilty,” Jihoon grins.
“Come on, I paid for karaoke last Friday,” Seungkwan complains. “That was way more expensive than a granola bar and a Coke.”
“Coke Zero,” Jihoon says, emphasizing the “Zero.”
“Tomato, tomato.” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, enunciating the “ay” and “ah” in the two pronunciations of the word.
“Apples, oranges,” Jihoon insists.
“Okay, okay, let’s not fight, children. A blueberry granola bar and a Coke Zero, on your way.” You give a pretentious salute.
Grasping your coffee, you down the rest of it and get up from the table. You crumple the cup and toss it into the trash can before leaving.
Walking through the main hallway, you pass the vending machines on your department’s floor, which are known to swallow dollar bills without offering products in return. Between the youngest employees in the department—people like you, Seungkwan, and Jihoon—you’ve discovered a secret spot that has better machines.
Once you reach the elevator, you tap on the down button. When the doors open, you walk inside and press on the “G” and “Door Close” buttons.
The elevator doors close smoothly, and you tap your foot as you watch the numbers at the top right corner go down from 8. It reminds you of the awkward elevator ride from Monday morning, but you quickly shake those thoughts out of your head.
It’s best not to think of Joshua when you don’t have to.
The garage is a relatively far trek from floor 8, but it’s a worthwhile time sacrifice. The other floors (and by extension, their vending machines) are locked by key cards for employees of their respective departments, so it’s either you take a chance with the floor 8 machines or head to the basement. You, Seungkwan, and Jihoon have all found that you’d rather not take that chance.
The elevator announces your arrival to the ground floor with a ding, and as the doors open, you make a beeline toward the machines.
Seeing that someone is already using the vending machine closest to the elevator, you walk past it toward the machine closest to the doors leading out of the hall and into the garage.
“Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero. Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero,” you repeat to yourself under your breath.
Coming to a stop by the vending machine, you scan the snacks inside. Grabbing your wallet, you fish some dollars out and double check the numbers of the items before lifting your right hand up to the combination pad.
Jihoon first, because he was slightly less annoying than Seungkwan this morning: Coke Zero, number 405. You punch the numbers into the machine. When it flashes $2.00, your eyes widen.
“Two dollars for a soda is robbery,” you groan.
Still, you count two dollars out from the wad of cash in your left hand, then feed it into the machine. The machine begins whirring, the spiral in 405 moving forward. But just as you think the drink is going to come out, the spiral stops.
“Oh, come on,” you mutter.
You press on the small button next to the number pad that you guess is made for delivering change, but it doesn’t return your money.
Maybe putting in two more dollars would make the machine move and spit out two drinks? Immediately acting on the thought, you punch 405 in the number pad again and feed two more dollars into the machine, only for it to whir without delivering the Cokes again. Another two dollars later, and the same happens.
Taking matters into your own hands, you begin banging on the front of the vending machine. After around five seconds of failing to make the machine respond to physical force, your arms fall from the screen back down to your sides.
Clenching your fists, you sigh and count out two more dollars from your left hand. Then, your right hand stalls.
On second thought, you really don’t want to lose more money to the machine. Maybe you should try to force it out one more time? You shove the remaining cash into your back pocket.
You raise your clenched fists again, but before your hands meet the vending machine glass, a voice suddenly comes from right behind you.
“Whoa, whoa.”
Unfortunately, you’d recognize that honey-coated voice anywhere.
You spin around wide-eyed, coming shockingly close to Joshua Hong. His face is dangerously near yours, and his arms have wrapped around your body to clasp your hands in his.
“Shua? Wha—” Your voice is breathless, trailing off like you’ve forgotten how to speak.
“Hey, don’t fight the machine. You’ll only end up hurting your hands.”
His words are soft, but the way his thumb grazes your knuckles leaves a faint hint of warmth, like he’s lit a match against your skin. You should pull back—really, you should. But the closeness, the weight of his presence, keeps you frozen in place.
Your heart stutters in protest. This is nothing. He’s always like this. Always caring, always thoughtful. Always too close.
And yet, remembering what Seungkwan and Jihoon said, some part of you also wonders: Why does it feel different when it’s me?
Scowling, you drop his hands and take a step back, like distance will save you. "It's fine. I'm handling it."
His brow arches at your defiance, and for a moment, his gaze searches yours, like he’s looking for something you’re not ready to admit.
"Are you?" he asks, the words laced with amusement.
Your hands ball into fists at your sides, both in frustration and to keep them from reaching out for him again and betraying you.
“I am,” you insist, though the heat rising in your cheeks threatens to undermine your confidence.
But then, just as quickly, he tilts his head, and his lips curve into a smirk—soft, upturned at the corners, with those faint dimples that could bring a fortress down.
And for a moment, just a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one feeling this way.
But before you can think of a sharp retort, his voice cuts through the haze in your head.
“You should’ve just asked me for help—like always.”
The softness in his tone, the familiarity, pulls you up short. It’s almost unbearable how easy it is for him to say things like this. Like it’s normal. Like it’s not turning your brain into static.
It’s too much. He can’t keep getting away with this, with being so nice to you all the time. It’s not fair.
“Stop being so nice to me,” you blurt out, clenching your fists tighter. You’ve got to hold your ground.
Joshua cocks his head slightly. “I thought you like it when I help you?”
Your face gets, if possible, even hotter.
Honestly, what can you even say to that?
Desperately avoiding his face, you stare at the much safer collar of his shirt. It’s an off white color, like the fur of the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you at the arcade. It remains on your nightstand because you still have no idea what to do with it.
Realizing that you didn’t answer him, you finally deflect. “Where’d you even come from? I didn’t see you.”
“Over there,” he says softly, pointing at the vending machine by the elevator.
“Oh.” You press your lips together, belatedly realizing that the person you’d passed on your way to this vending machine had been Joshua all along.
“So, what’d you need? I’ll fix it for you.”
You feel your face getting hot again. “Coke Zero,” you mumble.
“I thought you didn’t like Coke?” Joshua asks.
He remembers?
“It’s not for me,” you explain. “For Woozi.”
“Woozi?”
“Oh, I mean Jihoon.”
Strangely feeling like you have to explain yourself to him, to let him know that you’re only friends, you say, “We went to college together. Me, Jihoon, and Seungkwan. We just happened to get into the same department here.”
Joshua hums in acknowledgment. “No wonder, I always saw the three of you together. Made me feel left out.”
Your heart drops. Eyes wide, you cross your arms repeatedly, saying, “I never—we never meant to exclude you at all!”
“That’s okay, I have you to talk to, right?” he says with what you can only describe as an upside down smile.
You swallow and nod.
“Y’know I was just teasing,” he says casually. “I wasn’t offended.”
Before you can confront him about the mental whiplash he’s putting you through, he grasps your shoulders and maneuvers you to the right, so that he can stand in front of the machine. His touch was fleeting, but your heart skips a beat anyway.
You watch as he grabs two dollars out of his wallet, then punches 405 into the keypad. As the spiral whirs, he sends two precise kicks to the bottom left of the machine.
Doubting his method, you raise your eyebrows in uncertainty. But just as you do, the whirring is accompanied by the sound of the soft drinks falling.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
That actually works?
Joshua bends down and sticks a hand into the bottom flap of the machine, pulling out the drinks that had just dropped from slot 405.
“Four Coke Zeros, at your service. Anything else?”
“Oh, a blueberry granola bar for Seungkwan. And those chips for me,” you say with mild surprise, pointing at slots 201 and 302.
“Sure thing.” He taps the corresponding numbers and slips some bills into the machine.
Thankfully, 201 and 302 are very cooperative, unlike 405.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to pay for those,” you say, your fingers brushing against his as you accept Seungkwan’s granola bar and your bag of chips. The faint contact sends an unexpected jolt through your chest, one you force yourself to ignore.
“Oh, it’s not for free,” Joshua replies, his lips curling into a smile that’s soft yet pointed. “You owe me a coffee from next door.”
You blink at him, caught off guard. “Tomorrow morning, then?”
He nods his head slightly, a gesture so casual it almost feels calculated. “How about today, after work?”
Your heart stutters. The way he’s looking at you—his eyes shining, eyebrows raised a little, with a faint crease between his brows—feels strange. It’s somewhat vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something.
No, surely not. Surely, he’s not—
The thought dies before it can fully form, drowned out by the thundering sound of your heartbeat.
“Sure,” you manage to squeak out, your voice embarrassingly small in the space between you.
His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression. Relief? Satisfaction?
You swallow hard and grip the snacks in your hands like they’re a lifeline. You need to get a hold of yourself. Joshua Hong is not asking you out. He’s just nice. That’s all.
────୨ৎ──── Wednesday ────୨ৎ────
“You’re joking. You’re actually joking.” Seungkwan’s voice rings throughout his waterlogged apartment.
“Most unfortunately, I’m not.” You blink, feeling a droplet of sweat getting dangerously close to your eyes.
You carefully wipe the sweat that’s gathered at your forehead using your forearm, since your hands are gloved up. You definitely don’t want the nasty residue from the rubber gloves getting on your face.
Seungkwan glares. “You didn’t tell me that you were on a date with You Know Who! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you.”
“Well, you did,” you say exasperatedly, grabbing an antique-looking lamp and lightly placing it in the box of items to throw away.
“Tell me what happened, exactly. Don’t leave a single thing out!” Seungkwan barks, waving at you from across the room, where he’s dismantling a chair to put in the box.
In the middle of clearing out Seungkwan's damp furniture, your mind drifts back to yesterday afternoon, to the cafe where…
────୨ৎ────
…The soft hum of coffee grinders and the steady chatter of customers make you feel warm inside, easing the tension from earlier that morning. You sit across from Joshua at a tiny table near the main window, taking in how the late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his face. He looks like royalty, and you think you could watch him for forever.
He’s nursing a cappuccino, his slender fingers tracing absent patterns on the side of the mug, while you sip on a mocha latte, its foam already starting to lose its shape. Staring at the latte, you think it’s about time you moved on from small talk.
“You really didn’t have to pay for my drink,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. It’s hard to argue with him when he wields his secret weapon every time.
He smiles, that same boyish, disarming grin he always gives you. “It’s just coffee. I get you one almost every day, y’know?”
“Yeah, but I was supposed to—”
“Exactly,” he interrupts, eyes sparkling. “Think of it as payback. For all the mornings you made brighter just by showing up.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, heat spreading down your neck as you lower your gaze to the coffee table, suddenly fascinated by the faint scratch marks on its surface. “You’re too nice,” you manage, the words feeling as flimsy as tissue paper.
“Only to you,” he says, and though his tone is light, the words feel impossibly heavy. Like they’re carrying something you’re both too afraid to name.
Your heart twists violently as your eyes snap up to meet his. The way he’s looking at you—steady, unyielding—makes your breath hitch. This is Joshua, you remind yourself, the nicest guy you’ve ever met. And yet, you can’t ignore the way it feels like he’s waiting for something. For you.
“You don’t mean that. I don’t believe that.” The words spill out before you can stop them, shaky and uneven. But even as you say them, a part of you aches with the knowledge that it’s not entirely true.
Because deep down, you want to believe him. You want to hold onto the idea that he’s different with you, that the warmth in his voice and the way he looks at you isn’t just another facet of his kindness but something more.
But that hope is dangerous.
If you believe him and you’re wrong—if this is just Joshua being Joshua, warm and selfless to everyone he meets—it’ll break you. So instead, you tell yourself that it’s impossible. That he can’t mean it.
You clutch onto every reason why: the way he always holds the door open for others, how he buys coffee for the entire team sometimes, the way he seems to know exactly what to say to make anyone smile. It’s who he is, you think, not just with you.
The idea of reading too much into his words—of exposing your heart only to realize you’ve misunderstood everything—is unbearable. So you push it away, burying the small flicker of hope before it has a chance to grow.
But even as you deny him, there’s a quiver in your voice, a hesitation that gives you away.
He leans forward slightly, his arms resting on the table, shrinking the distance between you. “You should. Don’t you ever wonder why?”
Your breath catches. His words hang in the air, heavy and charged, and for a second, you think he’s about to say something that will upend everything you’ve convinced yourself to believe about him.
“Joshua, I—”
Before you can finish, your phone buzzes loudly on the table, shattering the moment.
You scramble to grab it, breaking eye contact as you glance at the screen.
It reads: “Kwannie Kwannie Kwannie.”
You sigh deeply but answer the call, putting the phone to your ear. “What?”
“Help!” Seungkwan’s voice comes through in a panicked shriek. You take the phone a few inches away from your ear, wincing at the sound, then stiffen. His tone did not sound like one of his regular, made-up crises. Bringing your phone closer to your ear, you hear him shout. “My apartment’s flooding! There’s water up to my knees, my coach is floating! I don’t know what to do! Jihoon’s useless with this kind of stuff, and you’re the only person who knows where my emergency shutoff is—”
“Okay, okay, breathe. 4-7-8 method. I’ll be right there,” you say, shooting up from your chair.
Joshua watches you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Everything okay?”
“Seungkwan’s apartment is flooding. I have to go help him,” you explain, grabbing your bag.
“I’ll come with you,” he immediately offers, already standing.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” You force a smile, though you’re still buzzing with the tension of whatever had just happened. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Before he can respond, you rush out the door, heart racing—not just from Seungkwan’s crisis, but from the words Joshua almost said. You hear him calling your name, but you’re unable to bring yourself to look back, afraid you’d cave.
If you had, you would’ve seen a crestfallen Joshua still standing by the table, frozen in place...
────୨ৎ────
...Seungkwan drops a chair leg.
If the water hadn’t already been drained (by you, yesterday, when you figured out how to use Seungkwan’s emergency shutoff valve), the metal leg would have made a small splash and floated in knee-deep waters. Instead, it fell obnoxiously loudly onto Seungkwan’s hardwood floor, ringing throughout the half-empty apartment with full force.
“Ah! Seungkwan!” You jump, nearly dropping your drill, which you had been using to unscrew the legs of the coffee table while retelling what had happened Tuesday afternoon.
“He was about to confess,” Seungkwan says slowly and robotically, as if caught in a trance.
You can’t bring yourself to deny it.
“He was about to confess,” he repeats.
Letting out a major sigh, you hop up onto the dining table, tapping it. “You know, we have to dismantle this too.”
“He was about to confess!” His sudden shout startles you again. “And where the hell is Woozi when we need him?”
“Probably on his way, as he was when you checked 20 minutes ago?” you say dryly.
“He needs to get a load of this. I was right!” Seungkwan waves the chair leg in the air triumphantly, far too close to the ceiling for comfort.
“Dude,” you laugh, “you’re going to scratch the ceiling, put it down!”
Seungkwan pouts. “But this is my victory leg.”
“Tell that to Woozi,” you grin. “I think you should show him the leg, first thing.”
He lights up. “Excellent idea.”
All of a sudden, you hear someone knocking on Seungkwan’s door. Jumping off of the table, you skip across the living room down to the narrow main hallway. Once you reach the door, you crack it open a few inches—as far as the chain link will let you.
“Woozi, you’re so late!” Your face breaks out into a smile upon seeing your friend.
“My bad,” Jihoon says with a chuckle.
“`Y’know, Kwannie has a big surprise for you?”
“I can’t wait,” he says with a sigh. “How bad is the damage?”
“See for yourself.” You take down the chain lock and swing the door fully open with a smile, only to falter at the sight of the one person you thought you’d successfully avoided all day.
Joshua.
For there he was.
“Here to help,” he says shyly, hands folded behind his back.
You give Jihoon a panicked look.
Jihoon explains, “I was heading out of the office when I caught him in the hallway. He said he was down to help Seungkwan, and I figured the more, the merrier.”
The sight of Joshua standing in Seungkwan’s doorway makes your stomach drop. It’s like all the tension from earlier has come rushing back in, this time amplified by the unexpectedness of his arrival.
You plaster on a polite smile, though you’re sure it looks more like a grimace. “Great,” you manage to choke out, turning on autopilot to lead him and Jihoon down the hallway.
But inside, your thoughts are spiraling. What is he doing here? Does he know you’ve been avoiding him all day? Did Jihoon tell him anything on the way over?
Your chest tightens as you think about Seungkwan waiting in the living room, blissfully unaware of Joshua’s presence. You can already imagine the chaos—Seungkwan, ever the open book, accidentally blurting out something incriminating.
What if he says something about the coffee shop? What if he mentions the way you couldn’t stop talking about Joshua just now?
You’re half a step ahead of them, your mind racing through ways to keep the situation from unraveling, but drawing nothing but blanks.
But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Joshua. He’s walking casually beside Jihoon, his hands tucked into his pockets, a beanie snug on his head. He looks different, less polished than usual, but still effortlessly himself. And for a moment, you falter.
Because despite your panic, there’s a part of you that’s almost glad he’s here. A part of you that can’t help but wonder what it means that he came at all.
When you reach the living room, you come to a hard stop, frantically making a small X with your arms.
But Seungkwan has his attention focused on that blasted chair leg, and of course, he immediately opens with: “Guess who has the biggest news of all time! The biggest action since the Great Orange Plaza Incident—”
Cue the obnoxiously loud laughter from you. “Joshua’s here! Say hi!”
Seungkwan turns to the hallway, where, indeed, Joshua is standing. Shocked, he drops the metal leg, and it announces its contact with the ground through a loud clang.
Wincing at the sound like earlier, you accidentally shift your body backward into someone behind you.
“Sorry,” you say, hoping it was Jihoon.
His arms come up to grasp your waist, holding you steady.
“No worries,” comes Joshua’s voice.
You shut your eyes, somehow both drowning in embarrassment and burning up at the spot where he’s touched you.
You quickly step out of his hold, trying not to let your flustered state show. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go now.”
Joshua chuckles softly, his voice like velvet. “그래, 바로 가자.” Right, let’s go straight away.
Seungkwan, thankfully, is too caught up in his shock to notice the moment, though Jihoon raises a single eyebrow in quiet observation.
As you guide Joshua and Jihoon into the living room, you internally rehearse all the ways you can deflect or redirect the inevitable awkwardness. But before you can settle on anything, Joshua is already rolling up his sleeves. You avert your eyes from his biceps.
“What needs moving?” he asks.
You glance around the room, desperate for something to hand off to him. Your eyes land on the dining table—big, heavy, and far too ambitious for one person to handle. Perfect. “The dining table,” you say, trying to sound casual. “We need to get it downstairs to the lobby for pickup.”
Seungkwan perks up. “Oh, that thing’s a beast. Good luck.”
“I’ll help,” Joshua says immediately, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you.
You blink, caught off guard. “Uh, okay. You and Woozi can move it.”
But Jihoon smirks, catching on. “Actually, I just remembered I promised to help Seungkwan with,” his voice trails. “Something else. You’ve got this, right?”
Before you can protest, Jihoon grabs the metal chair leg and joins Seungkwan in the corner, leaving you and Joshua alone with the daunting table.
“Looks like it’s just us,” Joshua says, his teasing smile widening.
You swallow thickly, resigned. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
Together, you begin maneuvering the table toward the hallway. It’s heavy and awkward, and you struggle to find a good grip on the edges.
“Here,” Joshua says, dropping his side of the table and moving closer. His hands brush over yours as he adjusts your grip, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “That should help.”
The contact sends a jolt through you, but you force yourself to focus. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.
By some miracle, the table fits in the elevator, though the tight space forces you and Joshua closer together. You’re much too aware of how little distance there is between you, the faint scent of his cologne making your heart race even faster.
“This reminds me of Monday morning,” Joshua says suddenly, his voice soft.
Your head snaps up to meet his gaze. What is he talking about? The elevator? The coat? Both?
He nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
Your stomach twists. “What about it?” you ask cautiously.
His eyes searching yours. “I just,” he hesitates for a moment, before continuing. “I feel like we keep dancing around something. Don’t you?”
Your breath catches, and suddenly the space feels even smaller. “What do you mean?”
Joshua steps just a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I mean,” he pauses for a second or two before picking up again. “This. Us. I feel like there’s something you’re not saying. And I’m not sure if I should say it first.”
The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at the lobby, but neither of you moves.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Shua, I—”
Before you can finish, the doors slide open, and an older woman waiting outside peers in, her curious gaze snapping you both out of the moment.
“Uh, sorry,” you stammer, quickly stepping out with your end of the table.
Joshua follows, but you can feel his eyes on you, his earlier words hanging heavy in the air.
As the two of you set the table down near the designated pickup area, he leans in slightly, his voice low. “This isn’t over.”
Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, but you force yourself to nod, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”
Even as you head back to Seungkwan’s apartment, your mind is racing with the possibilities of what he might say—and whether you’re ready to hear it.
As you reenter Seungkwan’s apartment, the weight of Joshua’s words hangs like a thick fog in the air. It’s almost suffocating, the way your heart beats erratically at the thought of what he might say next.
You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Joshua to be right behind you, but he's still out by the lobby. The sound of Seungkwan and Jihoon’s voices floats down the hallway as they continue their discussion, oblivious to the tension that’s spiraling in your chest.
You step inside, but you can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to change. Joshua’s words—“This isn’t over”—echo in your mind, repeating with every beat of your heart. What did he mean? What does he expect?
“Everything okay?” Seungkwan calls from the living room, looking up with a raised brow as you walk in.
“Yeah,” you chirp, trying to act normal, but your voice comes out too high.
He narrows his eyes. “You sure? You look a little off. Everything go well?” It’s unsaid, but you know there’s a “with Joshua” attached to the end of his sentence.
You force a smile, but it’s shaky at best. “Yeah, the table's gone now.” You can’t tell him. Not yet. Not with the weight of Joshua’s unspoken words still pressing against your chest.
Seungkwan studies you for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the hallway. “I’ll take your word for it. So, you two, huh?”
Your eyes widen involuntarily, and you try to laugh it off. “아니, 아니! 그런거 아니야, it’s really not like that.”
Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, me and Jihoon are going to go to the bar. Want to come?”
The offer hangs in the air, and you realize, suddenly, that it’s the perfect distraction. You need space from your own thoughts. You need to calm your racing heart. Maybe getting out of here will help.
“I’ll go,” you blurt, before you can second-guess yourself. “Haven’t gone weekday drinking in a while. Let me just grab my bag.”
Seungkwan gives you a knowing look but says nothing more. As you step into the hallway to grab your bag off a high-hanging hook, your mind is still whirling with the unanswered questions about Joshua.
Walking further down the hallway, you find Seungkwan and Joshua standing near Jihoon.
Jihoon’s already at the door, his hand on the handle. “Come on, let’s go. I need some drinks in my system after today.”
You nod, attempting to shove your thoughts away for the night. The cool air outside greets you, and the cacophony of the city feels like a welcome distraction. As you make your way to the bar, Seungkwan and Jihoon immediately dive into their usual banter, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep glancing over at Joshua, who seems uncharacteristically quiet tonight, his usually playful energy subdued.
By the time you reach the bar and order drinks, you’re beginning to relax. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to think about what’s going on between you and Joshua, but you can’t help but feel like you’re walking a thin line between tension and relief.
But as the night goes on, Seungkwan and Jihoon quickly fall into drunken antics, leaving you and Joshua alone on the quieter side of the bar. The air between you both is thick, like an invisible thread is pulling you closer, yet neither of you dares to speak.
You fiddle with your glass, wondering if you should speak up first. You only have so much courage, though.
Thankfully, Joshua clears his throat, his voice low. “넌 좀,” he hesitates for a bit, before deciding to call you out, “조용한데?”
Well, it’s no secret that you’re being quiet. He was, too, at least until now.
You glance up, meeting his gaze for the first time since earlier. His eyes are intense, his lips pulled into that soft, half-smile you know and adore.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang between you like a dare.
Joshua leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “What part?”
Your heart races, but you hold his gaze. “About how this isn’t over?”
He’s quiet for a beat, then smiles—just a little. “I meant what I said.”
And in that moment, you realize you’re in way deeper than you thought.
You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest, like a stone sinking deep into water. You want to ask him more, to press him, to demand answers, but the words feel trapped in your throat. Instead, you look away, fidgeting with the rim of your glass, your fingers tracing the condensation. The alcohol has started to mellow your nerves, but the tension still hovers in the air between you two, thick and almost palpable.
“You’ve been quiet too,” you manage to say, keeping your voice steady despite the jittery feeling in your stomach. “What’s on your mind?”
Joshua doesn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering toward the noisy group in the corner where Seungkwan and Jihoon are laughing too loudly, practically leaning on each other for support. The laughter echoes in the background, a sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that has formed around you and Joshua.
It’s the kind of moment that feels too intimate, too close to the edge of something that could change everything.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, and his voice is soft, thoughtful. “I guess I’m trying to figure out if you’re really as clueless as you act, or if you’re just pretending.” His eyes meet yours, and there's something almost vulnerable in his gaze, a flicker of hesitation that’s rare for him.
You feel your heart skip a beat, caught off guard by the question. “Clueless?” You repeat, the word tasting strange on your tongue. “I’m not clueless.”
“그래? Are you sure about that?” he asks, his smile barely there, his tone teasing but with an edge of something else—something deeper.
You narrow your eyes, a little irritated by how easily he toys with you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and then immediately regret it. It sounds too defensive, too much like you’re trying to cover something up.
Joshua leans in slightly, his expression serious now, no longer playful. “I think you do. I think you’re scared.” His voice drops, barely above a whisper, but it lands like a truth you can’t deny. “You’re scared of what might happen if you admit what you feel.”
Your breath catches in your throat. The world feels like it slows down, the noise of the bar fading into the background as his words settle in your mind. The truth in them stings, and you don’t know how to respond.
He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.
Not yet.
Not to him.
Before you can say anything, Seungkwan stumbles over, dragging Jihoon along with him. “You two are too quiet,” Seungkwan says with a grin, clearly tipsy. “What’s going on here? Trying to plot against us?”
Joshua straightens up quickly, his smile returning to its usual playful, disarming self. “Nothing like that, we were just talking,” he replies, his voice smooth and easy.
You take a deep breath, trying to push the moment away, but the tension still lingers in your chest. You force a smile, though it feels weak. “Yeah, just talking.”
Jihoon gives you both a sideways look, too drunk to notice the underlying current between you and Joshua. “You two really are something, huh?”
Seungkwan laughs, waving a hand as if dismissing Jihoon’s comment. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mind them. They’re just having a little ‘moment,’” he says, emphasizing the last word with air quotes.
You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Contrary to Seungkwan’s comment, the moment’s long gone now, robbed by the chaos of their antics. But you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that you and Joshua are standing on the edge of something—something both terrifying and irresistible.
And for the first time, you decide that you’re ready to see where it leads.
────୨ৎ──── Thursday ────୨ৎ────
You wake up on Thursday with a start, the events from last night already feeling faraway. Joshua had dropped you off, and you had spent most of the night restlessly thinking of him, going over how to confess.
The bright morning light filters through the blinds, causing you to squint at the time on your alarm clock. It’s much earlier than you’d usually get up. You fight the urge to go back to sleep.
With resolve, you push yourself up off your bed and run through your morning routine with extra care. And by the time your last alarm rings, you’re ready to tell him.
You walk over to the front door, waiting for the telltale signs of movement coming from the apartment next door. Only, you hear nothing. Not even footsteps shuffling around.
Your elevator ride is silent. Your bus ride is silent.
Joshua had left before you’d even woken up—and you’d woken up pretty damn early—and his absence only made you more aware of the pressing silence between the two of you.
When you reach your cubicle, your eyes graze over the desk repeatedly, finding something is wrong.
“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Jihoon asks from the cubicle next to you.
“Nothing.” Everything.
You stare at the spot where Joshua puts a cup of coffee from the cafe next door every day. It’s empty.
“설마,” you whisper. No way. Did he decide to drop you because you didn’t answer him? But what else could explain his radio silence? You haven’t gone to work alone in over a month.
“설마 what?” Seungkwan asks, dropping into his office chair to the left of you at 9 on the dot.
When you don’t answer, he asks Jihoon, “What’s going on over here?”
Jihoon shrugs. “Probably drama with You Know Who.”
“Oh,” he says, and the two of them drop it.
Before you know it, the clock has hit 5pm, and you’ve spent the entire workday soullessly typing on your keyboard, lifting your head up every time you’ve seen movement in the room. Only, the man you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.
You miss the stolen glances and bright smiles you used to exchange. The silence had been stifling. You really did want to talk to him, to clear the air today, but he just never showed. Heart sinking, you pack up your bag and put on your coat. You stall for a moment remembering how he’d given you his coat just a few days prior. Did he really decide to give up because you weren’t responding well?
The bus ride back to your apartment is silent, but your head is full of speculative thoughts. When the driver announces your stop, your heart settles into a newfound determination.
Maybe he could let go, but you can’t. You won’t let him go.
“I’ll just barge in! Say my piece, then let him talk,” you mumble under your breath, pushing the lobby doors open.
Is it a good plan? You aren’t sure, but hopefully he’d forgive you for being hesitant for so long. You honestly don’t know how he did it—how he was able to stand your wishy-washiness?
Eyes tracing the ground, you make a beeline for the elevator, continuing your whispers. “And what am I going to say? God, I need a good opening line. Something like, please please take me back? Actually, we were never dating, so I guess that doesn’t make sense. Please please like me back? Is that too desperate? Well, I am desperate, so—”
Out of the corner, you see the elevator beginning to close.
“Hold the doors, please!” you shout, running as fast as you can. Speed is of the essence, so you can confront him as soon as possible.
You make it across half the lobby in record time, panting as you enter the elevator.
“Thank,” you say in between breaths, hands on your knees, “you—”
When you look up, your heart stops.
Joshua Hong. Dressed dapper in an all black suit and carrying, of all things, a briefcase?
“Shua?” you say breathlessly, immediately straightening.
Joshua looks down, his usual calm expression faltering for just a second when he sees you out of breath. For a moment, the two of you simply stand there in silence, the elevator’s gentle hum filling the space between you.
“Where were you?” you ask, your voice quieter than you'd intended, a hint of nervousness creeping in despite your earlier determination.
Joshua clears his throat, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Director Chun had me accompany him to the Lee meeting. You?” he asks, his gaze softening as he watches you catch your breath.
Your mouth suddenly feels dry. The reality of the situation hits you hard.
This was it.
This was the moment.
But now that you’re face to face with him, you’re unsure of what to say. You should’ve prepared a real speech, practiced your words properly. Instead, the dreaded silence lingers.
“I,” your voice trails off. “I just—” You let out a shaky breath, then shake your head as if to clear the mess of thoughts swirling inside. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About things. About us.”
Joshua tilts his head slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “About us?”
You nod, trying to steady your breath. The elevator seems to be going slower than usual, as if the universe itself is giving you more time to process, to speak. You feel a strange mix of nerves and determination pushing you forward.
“I didn’t handle things right. I was,” you pause for a moment, carefully choosing your next words. “Unsure. Confused. And I thought maybe if I stayed quiet, I’d be able to ignore everything. But I can’t,” you say, the words finally coming out in a rush. “I can’t ignore you. I don’t want to.”
Joshua’s eyes soften, his posture shifting, his briefcase clutched tightly in his hands. “You’re not the only one who’s been confused,” he admits, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t know what to do either, but I couldn’t let you slip away without at least trying. I care about you. A lot.”
The elevator jerks suddenly, and you both look up in surprise as the lights flicker. A loud noise rings through the space, and with a groan, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. You both freeze, and your heart jumps into your throat.
“Shit,” you gasp, instinctively taking a step back from the elevator doors, but your foot catches in a brief moment of panic, and before you know it, you’re pulled toward Joshua.
He catches you effortlessly, his hand impossibly warm at your back, steadying you as you stumble. “괜찮아?” His voice is gentle but concerned.
You can’t help but laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, him holding you in his arms, your heart still racing from the shock. Then you both realize the situation. No Wi-Fi. No way to call for help. Just the two of you, stuck in this tiny box, the tension thick in the air. The sound of your heavy breathing fills the silence as the elevator remains motionless.
Joshua clears his throat, his voice teasing again. “Well, if you think about it, this isn’t that new.”
In response, you lightly laugh, thinking back to all the times throughout the week where he's kept you steady. The you of Monday morning never would have thought you’d be in this position now, not to mention the you of two months ago.
You glance up at him, mind still racing. The unexpected turn of events had thrust you into a corner. And yet, in some strange way, you felt it was just the kind of moment the two of you needed.
Alone.
No distractions.
No running away.
“Well, at least we have some time to talk now, huh?” you say with a small, tentative smile.
Joshua meets your gaze, his eyes full of understanding. “Yeah. Looks like we do.”
And for the first time in days, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it feels like an opportunity, a moment to finally clear the air.
────୨ৎ──── Friday ────୨ৎ────
You’ve been in the elevator for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. Somehow, conversation just flows.
“I liked you first,” you find yourself saying, voice barely above a whisper as you rest your head on his shoulder.
“그래?” comes Joshua’s soft reply, so close that you can feel the vibrations in his chest. Really?
You can’t believe he even has to ask. Yes, really. You were so obvious about it. So affected by him that you couldn’t even look at the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you on Sunday, reminded of his soft, kind eyes.
So you nod, “Mm-hm.”
Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, your body still adjusting to the peaceful rhythm of being near him. You’d been thinking about this for the longest time, but now it feels so natural, so certain, and you can’t help but regret all the time you’d spent secretly pining over him. God, you’d even asked him to stop being so nice to you out of pure desperation. Who does that?
“Since when?” His voice is smooth, warm, like a soft melody, and you can’t help but feel drowsy with the way it lulls you into comfort.
You pause, eyes drifting to the floor of the elevator as you try to gather your thoughts. “Since when?” you repeat, the memory taking you back.
It was a chaotic day, the kind of day where everything felt so loud and full of people. You were at that welcome party for the new transfer—Joshua—but it had been too overwhelming. So, you’d slipped away, finding solace in the quiet of the cafe next door. You’d gotten a coffee to-go, and you sat outside on a bench, letting the world pass you by as you listened to your audiobook. That was your kind of perfect Saturday.
You never saw him that day.
But you did see him a week later, in the hallway of your apartment building. You’d just locked your door, ready to head out when you noticed the man next door fumbling with his own keys. His moving process had seemed slow, but that day, you finally got to exchange quick introductions before stepping into the elevator together. And somehow, in that brief exchange, you found yourself already falling, the way his laugh filled the space between you, the way you both laughed at the coincidences stacking up—the apartment, the floor, the building, the department. It was electric, the start of something special.
You glance up at him now, still leaning against his shoulder. “When we first met, in the hallway,” you finally say, voice soft.
Joshua smiles, a glint of fondness in his eyes. “That was when we first met?”
You furrow your brows, confused. “Wasn’t it?”
Joshua laughs quietly, the sound like a comforting hum in the otherwise still elevator. “I remember differently,” he says, poking your cheek gently.
You tilt your head. “If not the hallway, what was it?”
“The first day I came here, sweets,” he says, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair from your face.
Your mind races, wondering if you’ve forgotten an important memory. “But we didn’t meet, did we?”
Joshua hums, the kind of hum that carries a story behind it. “I guess you didn’t see me, but I saw you.”
You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “When?”
He leans back slightly, eyes distant as if replaying the scene in his head. “I remember being bombarded by all the office workers. God, it was so chaotic. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out, so I said some BS excuse about needing a drink.” He chuckles softly, then his expression shifts, softer now. “I went to the drink station by the window, grabbed whatever they had, and just stared out. I was wondering how long I could hide before it was socially acceptable to go home, when I saw you.”
You shift, intrigued by his words.
“You sat outside on the bench. You weren’t even aware of the crowd inside, just focused on,” he pauses, thinking of the right word, before continuing, “Existing? Listening to something, I guess. I watched you for a while. You were so still, so peaceful in the middle of all that noise. It made me stop and think. I’ve never really done that before. I’ve always been in ‘go, go, go’ mode. But there you were, just being, and I don’t know. I think that’s when I started thinking about you.”
His words settle over you like a blanket, warm and unexpected.
“I decided then to keep giving you coffee after that,” Joshua adds with a shrug. “You’re my elevator to my small enlightenment, if you will. You made me slow down, sweets.”
At that, your heart flutters in your chest. “I never knew,” you murmur. “I thought you were just nice to everyone. All this time, you’ve been looking at me like I’ve been looking at you.”
Joshua smiles softly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve been thinking about you for a lot longer than you’ve been thinking of me.”
“Only a week!” you protest.
Joshua’s eyes shine as he looks at you, crinkling into crescents. His hands steadily clasp yours, thumb rubbing against the back of your left hand. “Still think I’m too nice?”
“No,” you say, burying your face in his chest. “Keep being nice to me.”
When the elevator finally dings, and you can hear firefighters shouting things past the doors, it’s a few minutes past 12am. But neither of you moves, content in making up for lost time late into the night.
Author's Note: yes they were stuck in an elevator for like 7 hours from thurs after work to midnight, 내 마음이야
Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!
is it wrong to admire mingyu as he leans over the open hood of your car, grease stains on his jeans, carefully looking over the problems... again? sometimes you swear you have the worst luck when it comes to this shit, but it does help that you have a mechanic living just down the hall from you... who fully introduced himself to you with his career right there.
"well?" you're sitting on the only clean chair in this place. it's technically after hours now, but mingyu made an exception when you managed to get your car towed here after it crapped out on you. he always seems to do that, for some reason. "can you fix it, doc?"
he chuckles a little, glancing over at you. "it's already fixed," he reaches up, closing the hood of your car. "i had to replace the spark plug, but i thought i'd see if i could see any other problems." mingyu reaches to a rag, wiping his hands off. "sorry about the mess. ended up taking care of a few other things, and..."
he got carried away. you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "so... how much do i--"
"you don't." he's smiling, but he's not looking at you. he's too focused on wiping off his hands, almost as if he's too shy to look at you now. "not this time. i..."
"how much would it have been?"
he says nothing. it tells you everything you need to know. very outside of what you can afford at the moment. and you frown, hugging yourself.
"mingyu, i--"
"then have dinner with me." he finally looks up. "i'm..." he licks his lips nervously, that same awkward smile coming back, "i'm not reading this wrong, am i?"
your heart flutters. you push yourself up from your chair and make your way over, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. but he recoils away quickly, laughing.
"i'm sweaty!" he says, "and--and i've got grease on me! if you want to kiss me, do it later!"
a laugh bubbles up from your chest, and you find yourself only further enamored with this silly man. "i'll take you up on that, then."
— fluff without plot and soooo self indulgent it's crazy
— contents : established relationship, kissing, sexual tension, kissing, suggestive content, kissing, baking, did I mention kissing
"Thank you for your purchase I hope you have a good night!" the cashier wishes while giving you your pack of rainbow sprinkles.
you smiled at her and walked out into the streets so that you could make yourself back home. the sun was just setting in, and people every where were rushing back. you were in no hurry though, your apartment was just down the block and your boyfriend was still busy whipping up some vanilla frosting.
thats why you came out in the first place, he was making cupcakes for movie night, but ran out of sprinkles for the funfetti frosting. and you, being his little minion helper, volunteered to get him some.
you were an amazing cook when it came to breakfast or brunch, but baking on the other hand, hah. baking was completely out of your expertise.
you once tried to make cookies, but they neither spread nor softened and came out as rocks. they were so inedible that even the ants wouldn't touch them. you remember getting rid of them by chucking them at your brother whenever he annoyed you.
when you finally reach your apartment, your boyfriend calls put your name, and you quickly change into your home slippers and run towards him.
"I'm here I'm here" you said, sprinting towards him with a large smile on your face. mingyu smiles back at you but doesn’t stop his mixer-blender-thing from working, "did you get the sprinkles?" he asked, his head tilting to the side in a very cute manner.
you raise the pack of sprinkles and wiggle it a little to show off your excitement. mingyu lifts one of his hands up, like a gate, and you immediately step inbetween them, successfully trapping yourself in his arms.
he turns the mixer-blender-thing off and plops his head on your shoulder, watching you tear off the packet with your teeth and pour a generous amount of sprinkles in the bowl.
mingyu had a habit. his friends would always tease him about it, but honestly he found it quite cute. It was not his fault he found everything you did so endearing that he just had to stare at you as if you were hanging the stars on the sky.
it was not his fault you were so pretty to look at, with your perfect lips and perfect eyes. or the way you looked the best when you were busy. it wasn't his fault.
you found that staring habit of his cute too. but that's probably because you did the exact same thing. but were you really to blame when everything mingyu did was absolutely perfect. especially when he baked, his concentration and attention to detail always made you proud. so it most definitely wasn't you fault either.
when you were done pouring out your sprinkles, you hummed contently and waited for him to start the blender again. but he doesn't move. you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, "something wrong, babe?" you asked, worry flashing in your eyes.
you expected him to come out of his trance, but he just shakes his head side to side, with the same look in his eyes. then he thinks for a moment before his lips moved into a tiny smile and he nods his head, "yes" he said, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.
mingyu let's go of the hand blender and grabs your waist to turn you around to face him. you give him a curious look and he just winks at you. then he turns you both around and picks you up on the kitchen island behind him.
he buries his head in your neck and trails sweet kisses all the way up to your ear. you wrap one hand around his waist and the other around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair, and you giggled whenever his kisses would tickle you.
this was normal, mingyu always kissed you every chance he got. but he always bothered to make up a stupid excuse before it, which is exactly what lead you to ask, "why so touchy, baby?"
"need to kiss my pretty baby" he said casually, as if he did this every day (he did). you laughed and let him place strategic kisses in all the right places. your forehead, the space between eyebrows, both your cheeks, and every single mole on your face.
when he finally reached your lips, you cup his cheeks. he leaned in to ever so slightly brush your lips, he releases a breath and pulls away kissing the corner of you mouth instead, you feel your heart grip itself.
he pulls away and smirks when he sees the shiver, he caused, go down your spine. "so needy for my kisses, yeah?" he asked, a smug grin taking over his smile.
you hadn't realised that the tension had caused your hands to slips down to his chest and hold his favorite jumper in a fist. you pulled him closer towards you, "need you to kiss me gyu, please" you begged.
mingyu could never deny you, and he knew that you knew that and used it against him very often, but he still chuckles at your tactics and leans in you press his lips against your in a big fat kiss.
you wrap your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer towards the edge of the counter so that you could feel him better. you wouldn't let his pulls away from you that easily again.
mingyu smiles into the kiss when he feel your clutch on his jumper. he loved teasing you, but he loved this more. the way your possessiveness would peek out and you would be less reluctant to let him go.
mingyu lays his hands flats against the counter so that he could kiss you better, and feel you closer. you hands were crossed around his neck.
his mouth moved in perfect sync with yours and you were sure you could die like this, with him kissing you absolutely senseless.
he pulls away from you for a second and look down at your eyes, you were both panting. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and leans back in— DING.
both of your heads turn towards the little potato shaped timer kept above the oven. "aw the cupcakes are done" mingyu said sadly, his lips forming a small pout. you rolled you eyes and pushed his hands off you. you cupped his cheeks and turned his head to look at you. "so why are you pouting?" you asked, laughing softly at his cute little sad face.
"wanna kiss you a little longer" he said, speaking in pout while trying to tuck himself back in between your legs. you made sure to keep them shut.
you press a small kiss on his cheek, "we'll kiss later I promise. for now lets finish those cupcakes, yeah? " you said while jumping off the counter and walking towards the oven to take out the cupcakes. you make sure to grab mingyu's hand on the way so that he would follow you.
mingyu takes the opportunity hug you from behind and follow you like a dumb puppy. he breaths in your hair and smiles againt your neck, "I love the way you smell" he said.
you snorted, "that's not creepy at all."
"hey I'm not creepy I just liked the way the love of my life smells okay?" he pouts again, this time angrily.
you laughed again and turned around in his arms to face him. "thank you baby" you said sincerely, then got on your tippy toes to kiss him, "I love you too" you said.
mingyu felt the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. he was pretty sure the cupcakes would burn if he didn't turn off the oven soon, but who cares? he was kissing the smartest, the most beautiful person alive. for him, it really was you who hung the stars in the sky.
💜 summary: you want your boyfriend, minghao, to stay the night. but, you're nervous about asking him. he knows the perfect way to soothe you.
💜 a/n: he looks SO boyfriend in these pictures 😭 i was listening to "after hours" by kehlani when i got the idea for this! enjoy!
divider by @cafekitsune
my masterlist
you're surprised by how funny this movie is, and your giggle fills the comfortable silence. as you cuddle in closer, minghao's chest vibrates with a chuckle.
you glance up at him, expecting to find him laughing at the cheesy comedy on your tv screen. but, he's looking at you.
his warm, brown eyes are soft and drooping. your heart skips a beat, enchanted by the loving look in his eyes. it's getting late, but you can't bear to say goodnight.
the pair of you have only been dating for a couple of months, but it's safe to say you're head over heels for him. He's attentive and sweet and seems to know what you need before asking.
"what movie do you want to watch next?" he tucks a loose curl behind your ear, waiting for your response. his voice is gentle and slow, a telltale sign of his need for sleep.
your heart aches slightly. you can tell he's tired but neither of you wants to let go of the other. instead, you press a soft kiss on his lips. it's lazy yet intimate, that familiar feeling warms the pit of your stomach.
"hao, i can tell you're tired," you murmur, sitting up to cuddle further into his grasp. instinctively, his arms wrap around your torso. you could stay like this forever. lounging on your worn couch, surrounded by minghao's warmth and affection. but, you can't be that selfish.
"so are you," he teases, blowing a raspberry into your neck. "but, i want to stay here with you as long as you'll have me."
the sincerity of his words wraps around your heart, spreading warmth throughout your body. "i don't want you to leave," you whine, clinging to his form.
minghao's hands are silky and gentle, stroking your back through the thin material of your shirt. the motion is calming, lulling you into a state of serenity. maybe that's why you finally find the courage to ask what you've been holding in for weeks.
"would you want to stay the night?" it's nothing more than a whisper. luckily, your bodies are intertwined and your voice carries into his ear.
your heart thumps while you wait for his response. a million questions run through your mind. is it too soon? does he want to sleep in his bed? will he be able to make it to practice tomorrow? am i desperate? does he-?
minghao's thumb gently brushes over the wrinkle in your brow. he follows it up with a chaste kiss, erasing the little lines of worry.
"of course i want to stay here with you, honey. i thought you'd never ask." his smile is bright, lighting up his entire face. it stuns you for a moment. it's difficult to get used to his beauty sometimes.
"o-okay, good," you breathe out, finally able to relax. minghao is staying the night at your house. you try to bite back your smile but it's no use. his thumb gently tugs at it, before he leans down to kiss you again.
he kisses you with purpose like he's pouring all his love and appreciation into the gesture. your heartbeat roars in your ears, feeling slightly dizzy from the feel of his lips. you feel like you're in a daze. the only thing keeping you tethered to reality is him.
he snakes his arm tighter around your waist, helping you straddle his thighs. you feel your cheeks heat up and a warm shiver runs down your spine. you've always loved it when he subtly shows his strength, maneuvering your body with ease.
the sensitive skin of your neck tingles from the gentle press of his lips. his warm hands massage slow circles into your hips. you let out a quiet moan, lost in the way he slowly explores your body.
he teases you, toying with the bottom of your shirt. he strokes the smooth skin below your belly button, leaving goosebumps in his path. minghao's lips haven't stopped their transgressions. he's only upped the intensity.
your head swims when his lips meet the spot below your ear. your heart races, reveling in the subtle ghost of his lips against your skin. you wrap your arms around his neck, a weak attempt at bringing him closer.
his low chuckle adds to your excitement, each warm puff of air against your skin feels heavenly. he finally succumbs to you, trailing the tip of his tongue along your jawline. when he finally stops, he nips your skin, quickly soothing it with an open-mouthed kiss.
"m-minghao," you breathe, unable to focus on anything else but him. he lets out a teasing hmm? continuing his journey down your body.
"want me to take you to bed, baby?" he breathes against your skin, pecking your delicate collarbone.
"y-yes, please," you whine. barely a second passes before he stands up, carefully cradling you in his arms. you cling to him like a koala, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
"such a sweet girl," he hums, making his way toward your bedroom.
Seungkwan (SVT) | Golden hour
fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader
”You look like the sun,” you chuckle when you see your boyfriend kneeling on the sofa. He’s taking pictures of the sunset through the open window, but the golden rays make it seem like his hair is glowing. Like he is glowing. A star fallen into your living room. He turns towards you with a playful pout but soon returns to his task, set on taking the perfect picture.
You cross the room, a little quicker now. The perspiration on the cool glass is starting to slide down the glasses of lemonade and you make it a game for yourself of not getting the floors wet. You make it. Taking out the lemon-themed coasters, you think it’d be nice to have more variants of different fruits to match your drinks.
You voice the thought aloud to Seungkwan, making him smile and turn towards you.
“We can find some. There will be plenty online,” he says while he sits down next to you. He shows you the picture he took. It’s perfect and you tell him so, earning a grateful kiss to your cheek.
The room is bathed in a warm glow. The walls look like they’re dripping gold, oozing honey. You lean back into the pillows and take it all in. The breeze blows in gently and carries the voices of people on the street and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Seungkwan, having already diligently documented the scene outside, watches you instead. Then he pulls up his phone again to take a picture of you too.
“That’s not gonna be much of a masterpiece,” you hum, turning your face towards him.
“Wrong,” he smirks and proudly turns his phone towards you. He already changed his lockscreen to the picture he just took. You laugh. It could be worse. “See?”
“All I see is that my boyfriend has a talent for photography,” you lean closer to him and kiss him.
“You’re my muse,” he whispers against your lips before pulling away and taking his glass of the cool drink. He praises the taste like it’s not the easiest drink to make.
“Oranges would be better. They’d match the color more,” he ruins it right after and points to deeper shade on the walls.
“Sure, maybe tomorrow. If the nice weather lasts, we can have a whole photoshoot here,” you tease only a little, you really mean it for the most part.
Seungkwan’s eyes twinkle either way as he immediately leans against you and starts motioning around the room, telling you all about his vision. Somehow you think it’s been on his mind for a while. You wonder if he’d ever suggest it himself.
You listen to him, and you must admit his ideas sound wonderful. At some point, however, all you register is his voice and the light. Sunlight paints him to be a statue with golden cracks where the rays filter into the room. He really might as well be a fallen star that found its home in your apartment. It could be him that illuminates the entire room. His voice only helps the daydream develop. No mere human could sound so nice.
You barely, no - you simply don’t realize that your body starts slumping against your boyfriend's. He's quite comfortable, and comforting even more so. Your body fits so nice against his, so naturally like it’s meant to be. You bask in his glow. He must be a guardian angel sent to you.
But while you don't realize, Seungkwan has noticed your absent-minded gaze quite some time ago. He knows you tend to get lost in your own head sometimes and doesn't get concerned anymore. Although he is curious what you're thinking about when you lean against him. Slowly he stretches his arm and lets it rest around your shoulders. You don't startle, you don't even notice. He continues speaking without giving into the temptation to call you cute and squish your cheeks. He gets the same reaction - or lack of - when he begins playing with your hair.
Eventually though, you come to. With a cute confused hum and loving smile.
“Where did you go?” Seungkwan coos at you.
“I just thought about how happy you make me,” you snuggle closer to him, hugging his waist. Your head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. He stutters a little.
“Bet you weren’t even listening to me,” he mumbles under his breath and you know he’s just trying to hide that even after all this time you still make him shy. So you repeat his words to him, at least what you did catch, and it’s enough to drive him into a corner. “Not fair.”
You laugh, pecking his neck and rubbing your nose on the skin of his throat. He wonders aloud why you are so affectionate suddenly, but you stay quiet - you already told him anyway.
“I’m really happy with you too,” he whispers after a beat of silence, hugging you closer, “Very happy.”
And so you sip your lemonades and watch the sunset together. It might not seem like much, but you like this little life.
Wonwoo's days off always had the same routine. Staying in the comfort of his own four walls, gaming or watching movies the whole day with you, the love of his life, by his side. He wouldn't trade these days for anything in this world. The little free time he had with you meant more to him than words could describe. Nothing feels better than just being with you, cozy and all snuggled up on the couch. Bonus points if there's a storm like today.
The sound of the rain drops hitting the windows replaced the sound of the movie you guys were watching. Wonwoo's arm slumped around your shoulder, pulling you close into his embrace. Carefully he played with your hair while your head was resting on his chest. You hummed softly in response, deeply enjoying the small act of affection.
He held you even closer, letting you know he's not going anywhere. You turned your head upwards, staring into his beautiful brown eyes, focused on the movie that's playing on the TV. Once he noticed you staring he turned his gaze towards you, smiling down at you. You buried your head in his chest, blushing from the way he smiled at you. Even after a long time of dating, small things like these still made your heart flutter like crazy.
"You're so cute, you know that?" he asked while giggling. This didn't help in any way. You playfully hit his chest. "Stop saying things like these out of the blue" you whined. "Hey don't hit me!! Otherwise I have to get revenge!" he said. "Mhm, and what would that revenge be?" you ask him. He didn't say anything, just grabbed the nearest pillow and smashed it on your head "OW WHAT THE FUCK" you yelled. There is no way there won't be consequences. You ripped the pillow out of his hands and smashed it against his face, earning a yelp from him. You jumped up and ran around the apartment with Wonwoo chasing you while laughing like crazy. Once he finally caught up to you he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
"HEY PUT ME DOWN" you laughed. But he didn't budge. Once you reached the bedroom he threw you onto the bed with him, trapping you underneath him. He was laying on top of you like a blanket and thanks to his tall figure there was no way you'd get out, so you accepted your fate and held him close.
"You know, I love you so so much" he said while looking up at you. "Hmm I don't know if I should believe you after you hit me with a pillow.." you joked. He started pouting, knowing how you melt for him whenever he does it. It's like his little magic trick to stop you from being mad or annoyed with him. "Noooo I'm sorry baby I love you too!!" you said while squishing his cheeks and kissing him all over his face. Soon you feel asleep, with the calming sound of the storm brewing outside in the background.
dokyeom sighs when you finish massaging his hands, but more in defeat than in relief.
"there you go, love", you announce, kissing his forehead before getting up to clean your own hands.
dokyeom sadly looks down at his palms, covered in a white cream. his doctor said he should try this new one, that maybe it would help better with his eczema - and even though he's always so positive, it still sucks to have to go through all this. again.
"how is it?"
"it's okay, i guess. it's not hurting anymore, the bits where my skin opened", he sighs. "how long do i have to be with this again?"
"about 20 minutes, then you can wash it off and apply the other one."
dokyeom just nods. yeah, well, at least it wasn't that bad-
"i know you hate this, but it's okay", you tell him, drying your hands on a towel. "it happens."
"i know", he looks up at you.
again, you lean down to kiss him - on his lips, this time -, and walks out of the bathroom.
"are you hungry? i can make us some dinner."
"wait for about 20 minutes, then we can cook together."
"i'm not letting you c-"
"there are gloves for a reason, darling", dokyeom chuckles. "please? cooking date?"
for the first time tonight, it's your turn to sigh. how can you say no to lee seokmin?
a/n: i hope his eczema gets better again, take care, dokyeomie ❤️🍒.
